Fishing: a dad and kid thing to do
Over 37 years ago I sat along the bank of Little Mahoning Creek, awaiting the mid-April opening of trout season. As the 8 a.m. kickoff approached, I glanced at my father sitting next to me, absorbed the moment, anticipated what experiences the day might provide.
Though some details have blurred over the passage of time, I recall it was a good morning, the trout willing and plentiful. In those days catching a “limit” was a barometer, at least in part, of the day’s success, and I believe our creels met that measuring stick. Unknown to me at the time, it would be the start of our last fishing season together, his life suddenly cut short a few months later.
John D. Voelker, writing under the pen name Robert Traver, wrote “... not because I consider fishing as being so terribly important, but because I suspect so many other concerns of men are equally unimportant but not nearly so much fun.”
Perhaps unimportant in comparison to other concerns, fishing has the potential to enrich not only one’s own life but relationships with others through shared experiences. It’s been said that there’s a lot more to fishing than simply catching fish.
In my own case my father, Michael Knapp, Jr., did not come from a fishing background. But having a son that seemed to be born with an incessant desire to fish, he nurtured my passion and we learned together. Times along the stream and on the lakes smoothed many of the inevitable bumps fueled through rebellious teenage years. Though it pains me that we didn’t have more time together, and that his retirement was measured in months rather than years, I’m blessed for what we had.
Naturally fishing played a part in the upbringing of my sons, Michael and Jason. Great times were shared fishing the outflow of Yellow Creek Lake, where they would catch one small bluegill after another. And fishing/camping trips to Pymatuning Lake where they were introduced to walleyes. Forest County’s Salmon Creek was a great venue for tent camping, fishing and mountain biking.
My perspective of the influence of fishing on family relations goes beyond my own personal experiences. As a fishing guide for the past nearly 20 years, I’ve had so many times when I’ve gotten to observe a father and son, father and daughter, grandfather and grandson, having, what I regard as a special moment. When I see something in their eyes that stands out. It could be a big fish, but just as likely a bald eagle serving as a wing man as we cruise up the Allegheny, a bear swimming across the river or a boat ride that includes skimming through ridiculously skinny water in a jet boat.
It’s a viewpoint that also documents how roles change with the passage of time. I think of the case of a grandfather/grandson duo who have fished with me for many years. During those early trips it was granddad taking the reins, fostering an adolescent sleepy from the early morning drive to the river. Now it’s the grandson at the wheel, literally, when they pull into the launch area. He’s the one unsnarling lines, helping his mentor deal with the physical limitations brought on by the passage of time.
The beauty of fishing is that it can be enjoyed at so many levels. When it’s shared with family members it often serves as a basis for memories that last a lifetime.
