5 truths I learned from fishing with my mother

My mother became dreamy-eyed on the opening day of fishing season. She loved pulling on hip waders, tugging on her fishing vest, grabbing rod and reel and spending the day on Idaho’s Snake River. She knew the best spots and what time of day the fish were biting. She wasn’t squeamish about baiting a hook with a night crawler or a hellgrammite.

I didn’t understand her passion for the sport. I thought fishing was boring, so I usually played in the water or read a book — that is, until the day she decided I needed to learn to fish.

She drove us to the middle of nowhere. We had to walk through open grazing pastures, where huge Hereford bulls roamed, but my mother was a woman on a mission — to teach me the pastime she loved. We found a good spot where the water rippled over rocks. I watched as she stuck and looped the worm on my hook, explaining if you don’t want to go hungry, you have to get your hands dirty. I was just glad that she did it for me.

My mother then tossed the line into the river and handed me the pole. She showed me how to hold it and tease in the line. She told me where to stand so the fish couldn’t see my shadow in the water. I stood there swatting horseflies, stepping on biting ants and keeping my eye on those huge bulls that occasionally bellowed. I thought the day would never end.

Then, I felt a fish hit my line.

The thrill of the moment consumed me. My heart raced. I watched my graphite pole bend as the trout on the other end tried to swim away. All at once, I was caught up in reeling that fish to shore. Mom was jumping up and down, just as excited as I was. As soon as I had the fish close enough, I couldn’t wait for the net and flipped it onto the bank. I’d caught my first fish!

That fishing adventure was long ago, but there have been times in my life when I have looked back on that day and realized that while fishing with my mother, I learned truths that have helped me during different times in my life.

For fashion or fishing, shoes matter