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An old hurt lay buried between father and son, watered with
silence, fertilized by time. It grew strong, as such hurts
do, when left neglected by
forgiveness.
Sarah warily watched it grow between her husband and his
father. She was there when it was planted and continually
sought a way to uproot the ugly old thing.
The only balm she had found so far was Joshua, her son.
Each man showed the child unrestrained love - as if the
feelings they used to have for each other needed an outlet,
a beneficiary, an heir.
Joshua loved Grandpa Bill and his stories of growing up way
back in the woods. And for two weeks every summer, Sarah
would take Joshua to Grandpa's house by the lake.
There on the dock, Grandpa Bill and Joshua would sit,
fishing from sunup until she called them in for supper.
Yet, Sarah never let Joshua go out in the boat - he was too
little, she'd say.
One summer, after much pleading by Grandpa Bill and Joshua,
Sarah finally agreed to let the boy go out on the boat. The
one condition Sarah set was that Joshua would have to wait
until after his seventh birthday later that month.
Ted never came along on the visits to his father's house.
But Sarah insisted Joshua get to know his grandpa, for Sarah
regretted never knowing her own grandparents.
For Joshua's birthday, Ted gave him his first fishing pole.
It was just a lightweight rod with a foolproof reel, but
Joshua couldn't wait to go out on
Grandpa Bill's lake.
Before the birthday dishes were done, Sarah had called
Grandpa Bill and arranged for Joshua to go out in the boat.
When Ted found out, he was furious!
"It's the boy's first fishing trip, Sarah, and I wanted to
take him out myself," Ted said.
"Then go with them," Sarah said, as she dried the last of
the dishes.
"You know that's not possible," Ted replied flatly.
Sarah threw down her dishtowel and turned on Ted. Glowering
she said, "I know no such thing, Ted Wilkins! All I know is
that Joshua wants nothing more than to go fishing with his
grandpa and his father. What kind of man are you to let an
old argument stop you from making your son happy?"
Ted's indignation deflated before Sarah's logic. She had a
point, and it struck him to the heart.
"Well, he won't let me on his property, let alone in the
boat," Ted said under his breath, as he turned away.
"He will after I'm through with him!" Sarah replied, as she
headed for the phone.
It was a long conversation, but a fruitful one, as Grandpa
Bill reluctantly agreed to let Ted join their party.
Their greeting, after so many years, was cool and conducted
under the watchful eye of Sarah - but one look at Joshua's
face set both men in their place. The boy was positively
glowing. This had been his secret birthday wish.
They loaded the boat with enough fishing gear to sink the
Titanic, as each man took his own tackle box of secrets.
Sarah securely wrapped Joshua in a bright orange life vest,
which came all the way up to his nose when he sat down in
the wide aluminum boat.
As Sarah released the bowline and pushed the boat away from
the dock, Ted and Grandpa Bill called out, "Aren't you
coming along?"
"No, fishing is a guy thing," she replied, as she waved them
off. "Have fun!"
Ted sat in the bow stubbornly facing due starboard, with
Joshua in the broad middle seat by the rods. Grandpa Bill
ran the outboard, looking everywhere but at the bow.
Each man took turns showing Joshua how to spinner fish for
walleye, how to troll for trout, how to work a bass plug.
But never once did either man speak to the other - only to
Joshua.
They tried the rock banks, the deep shaded pools, the
underwater shelves, even along the sheer granite wall. But
after a full day they were snookered, not one fish among
them. Finally they tried floating worms off the bottom near
the reed-choked sandbar.
"This isn't what I thought it would be like," Joshua pouted,
as they sat rocking in silence. He could sense the tension
between his father and his grandpa, but he didn't understand
it.
"Well, Joshua, some days are like this," Ted explained.
Just then, Joshua's line took off - in an instant both men
were talking to him.
"Keep your pole up!" Grandpa shouted excitedly.
"Reel, Son, reel!" Ted said, with equal enthusiasm. "Check
your drag."
Joshua didn't have a clue what that meant. He'd never
really caught anything big enough to take out much line.
"Dad, reach over and check his drag, he doesn't know how,"
Ted quickly added.
The fish paused in his battle for freedom and Grandpa Bill
reached over the struggling boy's hands. With practiced
skill, he took the line between his forefinger and thumb;
one tug told him the drag was way too tight.
The old trout was not tiring; in fact he had other ideas.
Angrily, he rose to the surface, jumping into the hot summer
air some forty feet from the boat.
He flashed a rainbow of silver and green, as the water
flipped from his powerful body.
Then came the sound both men knew meant disaster - the
twanging sorrow of line separating under too much strain.
Grandpa Bill still had a tentative hold on the line between
his fingers, but not for long.
"Grab the line up the pole, Ted," he shouted.
Ted dived for the rendered line whipping through the pole
guides.
Joshua fell backward into the bottom of the boat, as the
tension on the pole suddenly ceased. Grandpa Bill grabbed
the monofilament line and began hauling it in hand over
fist.
Bill took in as much line as he could before getting his
hands caught up in knots, then Ted would take over until he,
too, was entangled. By then his father would be free to
take over once more. Palms were cut and fingers sliced by
the struggling line, yet each man continued without
complaint, for it was Joshua's first fish.
"I see him! Get the net, Joshua, get the net," Ted
hollered.
Joshua reached over the tipping boat's side and scooped the
bright green net under the trout. But the fish was not done
just yet.
With a powerful thrust of his tail, he jumped three feet
straight up. Thinking fast, Joshua stood on his seat and
swirled the net after him, catching
the fish mid-air like a butterfly!
Together, Ted and Bill grabbed Joshua's life vest, hauling
the boy inboard to safety.
The two men and the boy laughed hysterically, as a
five-pound trout slimed the bottom of the boat. Joshua had
caught his first fish - and set more than the boat to
rights.
All the way home, the three relived their part in the
triumph like old friends.
Sarah was absolutely amazed when they neared the dock, for
each of them vied to recount the story. The cold distant
manner was gone from their voices, as each man cut into the
story to compliment the other for some daring act in the
tale; while Joshua, his chest lifted with pride, held the
stringer with one single, but very important, fish.
Sarah took a photo of the three of them, arms about each
other, with Joshua and his fish in the middle. All were
grinning like they had caught the biggest fish in the world.
"Hey, Dad, let's go show him how to clean it," Ted said, as
they headed for the dock.
As they walked away, Sarah smiled to herself. All it had
taken was one boy and one fish to make them a family again.
______________________________
Reprinted by permission of Dee Berry (c) 2000 from Chicken
Soup for the Father's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen, Jeff Aubery, Mark Donnelly and Chrissy Donnelly. In
order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no
portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior
written consent.
All rights reserved. |
