When I fished on Father’s Day with my dad, brother, and sister, I heard the chirp of the birds and the lapping water against the boat. I am not especially a fisherperson. Early on in my marriage, I fished once. I caught a bunch of catfish, and we cooked them for dinner.
When I was invited to go fishing with Dad and my brother and sister a year ago April, I jumped at the chance. Then some rogue huricane spooked us, and we cancelled. Ever since, I longed to go fishing with my dad.
So on Father’s Day, we cracked the dawn, loaded our worms, and collected each other to drive to the lake. Dad was the only one of us to put on his life preserver. I loved that even at our ages, “youth” feels invincible.
I threaded the worms on Dad’s and my hooks. I learned to fling my hook pretty far. Then we sat, and I listened. My sister says the attraction of fishing is not having to talk. I love that there is a meeting of spirit in the boat. I love hearing the sounds of silence. There were the chirps of birds and blups of water, and there were the occasional plunks from the nearby leaping fish. They were the smart ones. We (read Dad and brother) caught five small perch. “We” threw them back and pulled in our lines. Then we came on back for Sunday brunch.
Silence fills your heart. It connects you with those nearby. It’s no wonder people go fishin’.