My father loved to fish. Especially at night. Out on the lake. Alone. Just him, bait and fishing pole. He would catch many, many fish - I guess one can when one fishes all night. And bring them home and give them away… because he didn't like to clean the fish. Can't say that I blame him on that score!
My father also had another interesting fishing habit: he would always wear his glasses when fishing…and when it was pitch dark, he'd take them off and slide them in a shirt pocket. Of course you can probably guess what happened next: Yep, at some point his glasses would fall into the bottom of the lake. I always thought that was funny.
During my childhood, we lived on Lake Michigan and there were other, smaller lakes in the area, too; lots of opportunity to fish. Once, when I was four or so - I'm guessing- my father took me fishing. We fished from the pier - not a boat and it wasn't night. I remember my mother telling my father he'd better not come home without me. So, what did my dad do? He tied me atop a piling on the pier. I have a strong memory of sitting on the piling, with a rope wrapped around my waist and legs, holding me atop the piling. I think I may've caught a teeny tiny fish and nor did my dad lose his glasses.
That may've been my one and only fishing expedition. As a child, it seemed to be kinda boring - sitting quietly, not talking - and I wasn't too fond of bait. Mostly, I couldn't understand how people could fish for hours and barely talk. Now, I do!
But I still don't go fishing.
Cheers~