Passing the torch

Tanner and I made it back out to the saw mill on East Jefferson, this time accompanied by our sons, Tyler and Noah.

Tanner wanted Noah to get a feel for his old-but-new Snoopy pole, and Tyler had been bugging me to get back out and catch some fish.

"Ten of them, Daddy," he said on the drive out.

There was a time when Tanner I and could do everything we needed to do while moving toward the lake. Stop at a gas station? No problem. Run in for bait? You betcha. Grab some beverages? Done and done.

Now, things are bit more complicated. And fishing, too, has changed dramatically.

On Friday, my goal was to let Tyler fish while I helped. Tanner's plan was the opposite — he would fish and let Noah help by reeling from time to time.

Our boys, I might add, are a year a part. Last spring, Tyler was in the same position as Noah, eager to catch fish but not really sure how to go about it.

We started out pretty strong, with Tyler casting his Spider-Man pole with ease, and Noah working the reel of his Snoopy pole while Daddy fished. We maybe got in a good five minutes of fishing.

But five minutes is a long time in a child's world (especially without a bite), and soon Tyler and Noah were off in a field of grass, ripping and pulling at the dead, withered blades and throwing them into the water.

As you can imagine, soon sticks followed the grass, and soon after, rocks. Now, since we were fishing away from others, we let this behavior go on, but had it been more than just Tanner and I affected by the noisy boys, there would have been a stern talking to that would have followed (that sounds worse than it really is).

Nonetheless, I'd estimate that Tanner and I got in 15 casts each, if we were lucky. But our boys bonded, in much the same we have, and the afternoon was successful enough that I'd venture to say there will be a few more fishing outings with the boys in the future.

— Doug Monson