Sunday, July 19, 2009
The second hobby took presidence today.
Too much of a good thing isn't good, or so they say. Whether the old saying is true or not, it's the reasoning I took this morning when I reached for a Fishing pole instead of a microphone. Today was better spent casting a spinning reel with Bass jumping nearby, than to huddle inside with a hissing radio, despite the allure of air conditioned comfort.
Long before I ever took up Ham Radio, I had always enjoyed the chance to go fishing. It's in my DNA. Some of my earliest memories include fishing. Our family enjoyed camping and fishing and there was always a brother, sister, mom or dad around who didn't mind taking baby Rob along to fish. Well, maybe they did mind...but heck with them, I was ready to go!
One of the primary reasons I took the plunge and bought a home here in Conway SC, wasn't necessarily due to any intrinsic value in the house itself, but rather in the fresh water pond making up half of it's backyard. If I'd had to, I'd live in a cardboard box... as long as I'd get a chance to wet a hook. Especially in my own backyard. And while the need may never come, there is a valuable food-source just steps from my back door.
I give my father credit in instilling me the motivation to acquire property with easy access to a fishing-hole. When he retired from construction work, he settled down and bought a small farm in Mississippi, one with two small ponds, one for Bluegill & Bass, the other for Catfish. The catfish pond was a cash-crop for him, harvesting fore-arm long Blue Catfish that tasted wonderful. But more than the food-source, the ponds gave him a place to de-pressurize from day to day life. He spent as much time as he could, between his many chores and projects, chasing fish he considered more pets than prey. Those who do not fish, will not get it, but even without catching a single fish, the time spent fishing is a peace seldom ever found, and it was there I often spent time home on leave from the Air Force, again, fishing. It was a true treat to get up, get dressed, walk down the field out back, and start fishing. A poor-mans Paradise. If ever I settled down and bought a place, fishing would somehow figure in.
So standing along the bank today, down back behind my house...with pole in hand, crankin' my bait enticingly, I was happy...thinking about my father.