Wanderings: Fishing poles a casualty of today's busy lifestyle

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Wanderings

by Andree Niswander, reporter

"Where are all the fishing poles?"

It was a questioned muttered by my husband while "garage saling" with family recently.

A favorite summer pastime for us, we were hitting a huge neighborhood garage sale on a blissfully sunny day, when it suddenly occurred to my hubby that the fishing poles he so fervently sought -- garage after garage -- were nowhere to be found.

His question generated a response from our niece that fairly threw her uncle into an early summer funk.

"No one has time to fish anymore," she said.

Oops. She might as well have kicked the man, because those words took the wind right out of his fishing boat sails. We are, after all, talking about a guy who loves the sport so much that he dedicated weeks of free time to the painstaking process of handcrafting his very own fly fishing rod.

But her words rang true, and it was a sad statement of present day leisure time, or lack thereof ... The fishing pole: apparently it's an endangered symbol, the last remaining vestige of lazy summers gone by.

I remember those simpler times.

With fondness I recall childhood vacations, sunny days whiled away at the lake. My dad would fish, Mom sat reading under the umbrella and we kids would build sand castle upon sand castle, only to watch with inexplicable ecstasy as waves swept them away.

Frequently, the day's fishing would net no catches for Dad ... But that didn't seem to ebb his joy for the activity. I remember him walking toward us, usually toward the call of the grill, and his face had a more relaxed countenance than usual.

Oh, he was a jolly, family kind of man. But in retrospect, I am sure that my father of six likely enjoyed the quiet of alone time a great deal.

When he was finished fishing on the pier, we'd run toward him, screaming with glee to see the contents of his fishing pail. If only a few tadpoles and small fish swam inside, we were nonetheless impressed.

I think I knew even as a small child, that it wasn't really about the catch. Sure, Dad seemed to enjoy a good fish fry now and again, but fish or no fish, he always went back for more.

Mom never seemed to have a moment of rest, let alone time to read ... except for those days on the beach. With the rest of us blissfully otherwise occupied, she would [insert long, happy sigh here] finally get to sit down with a good read.

All six children played together -- happily, for a change -- with more beach and water than a half dozen kids could possibly need in one day. Mom would let us bury and uncover her feet in the sand to our hearts' content. Sunrise would move to sunset, with only the lapping water to fill our schedule.

And at night, the rhythm of the waves coming to shore near our pop-up camper would lull us to blissful sleep.

For all of us, the down time was therapeutic, a time of rest and restoration.

I understand my husband's chagrin at the mere mention of a world without fishing, because his childhood memories are similar to mine. He, too, grew up in a family where fishing was central to vacations.

We've attempted to pass this tradition on to our children, but far too often, our free time ends up overly busy with other activities and obligations. Many warm weekends are spent chasing sports tournament schedules and household chores.

Oh, I know the kids love their activities, and we love supporting them ... well, most of the time, anyway. But there is something to be said for family time spent free from organized activities and the big "honey do" list.

So where have all the fishing poles gone?

Oh, I imagine they're around ... somewhere. Perhaps the ol' friends are turning to dust in a hot, dry attic or giving way to mold in a dark and musty basement. Our fishing poles and tackle serve as nothing more than garage decor far too often these days.

No more.

This year, we will get our state of Ohio fishing licenses ... and we will use them. I'm not talking about a big, busy trip to "la-di-da land," just a simple day at the fishing hole. Maybe we'll head to Hudson Springs Park or the ponds at Barlow Community Center.

We will pull out the poles, forget the phones, pack a picnic and swimsuits ... and just go.

E-mail: aniswander@recordpub.com

Phone: 330-686-3947