FISH OR CUT BAIT

Among my fondest childhood memories were the days spent on the water with my brothers
and our POPA.
Our Grandfather was a teacher by Profession and a fisherman by obsession.
(Remind you of any historical figure?) He couldn't walk on water-but you wouldn't have
convinced us of that back when.
He was a meticulous planner and our fishing expeditions usually began
with an advance notice to:
"circle this date on your calendar"
(The anticipation that followed was almost 'excitedly' unbearable)
We couldn't wait for that circled date-

The day before-
POPA would prep the rods&reels-take inventory of his tackle box-
tie a few mono-filament knots-and check the tide-tables.
Later,at ebb-tide,we'd dig worms-roll'em in dry sand & place in a cardboard box in a
cool place. (1 time-we tried the refrigerator,but a certain parent "freaked")
{no-not the one with a twig and berries}
They were expelled to the garage.

We'd arise early(early bird gets the worm)
{no eternal reward will forgive you now for wasting the dawn}
and head points east.

Primogenitor would place my oldest brother in the shot-gun seat. He'd navigate...
the radio-cool- usually 77 W A Beatle C.
We'd check the rising sun-
(red sun in morning, sailor take warning-red sun at night,a sailor's delight)
{i always peeked at the setting sun the night before and whispered a little prayer}

At arrival at Gardiner's Bay (or the Peconics-or Lake Montauk-depending on what was
schooling where) POP would rent a skiff with a small outboard.
"Hey Chief-where are the best grounds-I want to give the kids an experience"
and off we'd go...

We always filled our basket.
We never failed to bring home an over-abundant
"catch of the day". In occasional lull times-no bites,no strikes- Pop would say:
"what are you doing over there-drowning worms? Reel in and hand me your rod."
He'd cast-boom-strike"here-reel it in kid" (it was uncanny-could he walk on water?)
"How'd you do that POPA" we'd ask in youthful amazement.

"You're not holding your mouth right"

Late afternoon-we'd head in.
He'd behead-gut-scale and filet a big basket of fish
like a samurai.
On the way home-in between singing "under the boardwalk" or "the sloop john B."
we would always remiss about the "one that got away"
Next time-Next time-he'd say

(Can we circle a date?)

Once home-he would send us door-knocking
handing out fresh fish to the neighbors

Later-as we lay us down to sleep -the bed would sway to the beat of the bay
i don't know about my brothers- but it would rock me to pleasant sleep-induced dreams.
i can feel it like it was-yesterday

Let me recap:
Research
Plan your work-work your plan
Take care of your tools
Do for yourself
Ask the experts
Share your bounty

We weren't just going fishing
we were learning lifes' lessons

PS:(of course)
Sometimes we would "chum" for bait dockside before getting on the boat.
POP had gerryrigged a home-made net which we would lower into shallow water
to catch speering.
POPA'S chum recipe-2 cans of mackeral+1 box of fortified oat flakes
i loved licking the chum off my fingers-to the ever amusement of my brothers
Years later-i read michael pollan-
Mackeral(fatty omega-3) Fortified oat-bran (whole-grains)=
brain-food
i get the last laugh