Memories of One Fish, Two Fish (or No Fish At All)

Our house on 3136 Anchorage Drive was camouflaged by a thick forest of bamboo trees in the back yard. When our neighborhood was built in the 1970's, bamboo was the plant de jour for making separations between properties, but by the time I was 10, our house was one of the only ones that maintained the tradition.

One day, mom decided that she wanted to go fishing. Apparently, it was something that she had done with her father, and wanted to pass down the tradition to the Wright girls. Instead of buying fishing poles, the ever frugle (although not by choice) Gayle decided that we would make our own fishing poles from the young bamboo fronds in the backyard. So, we cut down long slender pieces, and tied fishing line to the end.

The next morning, we got up at 5:30 am, because mom insisted that would be the best time for the fish to bite. However, I don't think that we would have caught fish no matter the time of day because A) We were attempting to fish the body of water in our neighborhood, Lake Ogleton. I'm fairly certain that the lake hadn't been home to anything that we would want to eat since bamboo went out of style and B) It's really hard to catch fish without lures, bobbing things and most importantly, bait. I'd really be interested to know if that is actually how my grandfather caught fish.. it seems that he would have better luck catching fish with his bare hands.

Despite our failure to catch fish, I think that I did learn about the most important part of fishing: it legitimizes the act doing nothing while spending time with people that you love.