Two weeks ago Cory received the ultimate testosterone fix by attending a fishing weekend with a bunch of guys from work. As an employee of a fishing equipment company, this trip was actually work-related. When he came home he regaled me with tales of their success – the ultimate hole, catching 22-inch salmon at a rate of one every five minutes, the beautiful location, etc. He concluded with a resolve to go there as a family sometime, perhaps soon. “Yes, honey. Great idea. We’ll do it sometime.” Well, sometime happened last weekend.
Truthfully, we had a great time. It was one of the peak weekends for fall colors and the weather was perfect. After our four-hour drive, we came within two miles of the cabin when Cory encountered his ultimate fishing spot and pulled over. He couldn’t wait to get on his gear, especially because the river in this part appeared unoccupied at the moment. Samantha questioned Cory for the 82nd time to clarify, “After you catch the fish you’re going to put it back, right?” (She’s a very sensitive soul that girl.) We walked through the brush to the river’s edge to watch the action, and it only took about five minutes before one of the salmon swimming upstream grabbed hold of Cory’s line and started tugging away. He reeled it in, we snapped a picture, Cory undid the hook, and back to the water went the fish. All-righty then, the kids and I were done. Cory, however, needed a couple more hours. So, we continued on to the cabin to check-in and survey our digs for the next 48 hours.
Our location, right on the river, could not have been more beautiful. After four hours of driving Samantha was simply delighted to discover a tetherball on the premises. Tetherball is her new favorite thing. As a former 2nd grade Tetherball champion myself, this pleases me. (What it means to be a tetherball champion at the ripe age of seven I’m not quite sure. What I do know is that I was one, and any chance I have to say I was the champion of anything I like to take advantage of it.) So, we began a game of tetherball and Samantha started talking. “Mom, I’m so glad you and dad aren’t divorced,” she began. Paying silent homage to the sentiment in her words, I said nothing and let her continue. “’Cuz if you guys were divorced, I’d probably still be stuck back there fishing with dad.” Samantha hates it when I laugh at things she says, but sometimes there’s not much I can do about it.
I have to admit, the kid has a point. I honestly don’t understand it. You stand there for hours, fighting all the nature that meets your line, struggle to bring it in, catch it, look at it, say “wow…cool”, and then toss it back into the river. What about all those “hunter/gatherer” theories? There was no gathering here people! That’s like my equivalent of going into a donut shop, looking at all the pretty donuts, smelling them, and walking out. First of all, that would never happen. Second of all, well, I just don’t get it.
So Cory fished, I read a book, the kids played outside, and we hung out with no TV. And you know what? It really was a great idea.