How to NOT Catch A Fish

As a child, I loved the outdoors. Fear did not exist in my young vocabulary. I played outside all the time. My feet were usually bare, which caused some minor injuries. Since I never picked up my feet high enough while walking/running (which is still true and causes me to have embarrassing falls around campus), I almost always came home with bleeding toes, knees, and elbows. In essence, pain and dirt did not phase me. Tomboy should have been my middle name.

Being a tomboy made interacting with both my grandpa's easier. One taught me how to ride a horse and the other taught me how to fish. My Grandaddy loved fishing. Teaching his granddaughters how to fish became one of his favorite pastimes when we visited. Due to my aggressive, impatient, and dysfunctional use of a fishing pole, I rarely caught any fish. Instead, my grandaddy put me in charge of grabbing the minnows from the bucket and re-baiting everyone's hook. They dubbed me "minnow girl."I knew to aim for the really fat ones to catch the best fish. It also helped that the fat minnows swam the slowest.

One day, while everyone still had bait on their hook, I took up my fishing pole and started to fish. As the breeze off the lake swirled around us, I suddenly felt a nibble on my line. With a semi-coordinated jerk I hooked a fish and began to quickly reel him in. Due to my excitement, I reeled in the catfish so fast that before I knew it his mouth hit the end of the fishing pole. Little did I know this would cause problems later.

I called for my grandaddy to show him that I finally caught my first fish. I could not wait to see the proud look on his face. His face beamed with pride. He did not tell me yet, but how fast and unmercifully I reeled in the fish caused some minor difficulties getting him off of the hook, as well as keeping the fish alive. Fish cannot breath in the air and winding my fish before he came off the pole caused him to struggle to survive. My grandaddy grabbed the catfish off of the hook and put him in the "well." The well is where fresh lake water circulated through the boat in a closed container to keep the fish we caught alive.

After catching my first fish, my lucky streak soon ended. I still strutted around the pontoon boat like I caught the world on my fishing pole, not a little catfish. Being a sassy four-year old came naturally to me. I continued to go to the well and grab minnows out of their separate container for everyone else still fishing. This gave me a job and an opportunity to periodically check on my "catch of the day."

While watching the rest of my family fish, I thought of how proud my grandma would be when she cooked my catfish for dinner. I would be able to tell everyone that I provided part of their dinner! I finally caught my first fish, which meant my big sister no longer had license to tease me about my previous failures.

Soon, someone got cheated by a fish out of their minnow and needed another one. A call for "minnow girl" soon rang through the air. I walked over to the well, which I ruled over, and opened the lid. To my surprise and great dismay, my little catfish lay floating at the top. In an agitated voice I called for my grandaddy. He walked over and looked at the crime scene. I frantically waited for his verdict. He diagnosed the problem as the fish had fallen asleep. Of course due to the delicacy of my age, he made it sound like it happened all the time.

My grandaddy disposed of the "sleeping" fish overboard. I still sat in denial. How could the fish have fallen asleep? It couldn't have been that tired. The clock barely read after twelve! I soon rebounded, as every four-year old does. I had my minnows, the sun shined intensely, the breeze swept through my nostrils, and we still had awhile longer to fish; how could I be sad? My four-year old logic told me to stick to where my talent lay: catching minnows.

As the years passed, I still rarely caught fish. Over the past decade and a half I have only caught a couple fish. Most of the time they were not good for eating. At the age of twenty, my grandaddy still calls me "minnow girl" while I am on his boat. I still get requests to catch the biggest minnow and rebait hooks for people. I may not have learned to catch fish very well, but I caught a great memory with my granddaddy and family. When the time comes for him to pass from this world I will still have this memory and my lovely nickname "minnow girl."