“A fish story”

When I was a kid, my mom would drive every April to the little hardware store in town. It sold fishing licenses and trout permits. She would buy one for my dad. She’d put it in a card and give it to him on his birthday.

He would open it like it held a king’s ransom.

He’d crow about the gift. He’d talk about the out-of-the-way fishing spot he had been eyeing up.

I thought about my mom’s gift this weekend because Pennsylvania held its opening day of trout season. Fishermen across the state head to rivers, streams, and lakes in the early morning. They’re allowed to keep a daily limit of five trout (minimum 7 inches long). 

Despite my dad’s interest, he was never a regular fisherman. Where I grew up, there were a lot of fishermen. Guys who you would regularly see fishing the local streams for trout, bass, and catfish. Strangely though I don’t have a lot of memories of my dad going fishing. There’s no funny stories about him catching a big trout. There’s no stories about the fish that got away. Even as a young kid, it hit me strange. Why was he excited about the license if he was never going to use it?

It took having kids myself for me to understand. I get it now. It was less about fishing and more about the things we do for our families. My dad didn’t have a lot of hobbies. He didn’t spend his Saturdays away from us hunting or fishing. He didn’t go out much during the week. He was never one to drink or spend his time away at the bar.

He tended to work. And when his heart stopped working right, he still looked for ways to give back.

He took his responsibility to protect and provide for his family to heart. I recognize that now. I see it in the little ways that my wife helps our kids. She’ll reach out to them out of the blue. She’ll offer to pay for some new work clothes for our daughter. She’ll make sure that our sons are eating and taking care of themselves. It’s sacrificing for the good of others. I see it in the things I’ve done too.

Oh, my dad and I didn’t always get along. I don’t want to paint over some of the challenges we had. But, I’ve always respected him for being a great role model. He could have been drunk every night at the local bar. Instead, he sacrificed to help make things better for his family.

His everyday sacrifices made a difference.

And oh yea, he never came home with huge trout or record-setting bass, but in my book he was still “a big fish.”