Gone Fishing

Yup, literally. I know there are many people wondering what would possess me to go fly-fishing—the answer comes easy: Why not?  I’m no stranger to fishing as my earliest memories include fishing with my brothers and father when I was nine years old.

Being the youngest of three boys and obsessed with my figure skating lessons, my father thought it was a good idea to try something new other than Dorothy Hammill’s  “Hammill Camel.”

My brothers of course mastered the casting and fishing thing. As for me, well, after my first cast I caught a duck, and I was done.  My father yelled, my brothers laughed, my mother popped a Xanax and I walked away never to return to those fishing trips.

Flash forward to 2012, when my buddy Chris and his family came to visit me in the Hamptons. I thought, although he did not ask me, I would try fishing again and finally put my traumatic experience behind me. I borrowed his fishing pole and vest—I already had the right shoes (my crocks)—I was ready to give it a try.  

Here is what I know. The best way to introduce any new sport or skill, regardless of age, is to have someone walk you through the process while they continue to be an avid supporter while you are trying it. Unlike my first experience, Chris was an excellent coach.

Chris and I never did catch any fish but I was determined not to go home empty handed. (No, it was not another duck!) While walking back to the beach house I picked some of the wild Seaside Goldenrod blooms. Unlike guests and fish, who should go after three days, these flowers lasted a week. 

By the way, I did indeed master the Hammill Camel. As for fishing, just like any sport, I still need to “cast” aside some more time to master it. 

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