On alternate years we vacation with my family in Wisconsin and go "Up North" to Eagle River with its surrounding chain of 27 interconnected lakes. At the inaugural event Marsha and I shared a lake house with my mom, brothers, their wives and four nieces and nephews. John and Tom are f[ish]anatics so I spent most of my time with the others. It was a wonderful experience but I was determined to do some male bonding the next time. I bought a fishing license and prepared for the big event but it was traumatic discovering my wake up call arrived at 5:45. Hey, #$@%!^&*, I'm on vacation!
Making coffee, grabbing a donut, rounding up the gear and preparing the boat was fun in an off-beat way and soon we were on the quiet, peaceful lake. We picked the perfect spot and readied the lines and bait. Ahhh... After ten minutes of silence and inactivity I launched a conversational opening. Shhh, you'll scare the fish. This bonding stuff was more difficult than anticipated.
Soon mosquitoes, the Wisconsin state bird, arrived in force. The next half hour I was occupied smacking those black-winged, blood-sucking critters. A billboard proclaimed, "The Pack Is Back" with a picture of the insects not the football team. The bugs can't be back, they never left.
Lest you think it a total disaster, I caught a 6-inch perch. He put up a tremendous battle, but I landed him without a net just moments before it started to rain. Those droplets were the crowning moment and I asked to be put ashore to nap, swim and drink beer like a civilized person. I took a lot of guff and Tom added to the embarrassment by making my experience part of his class' math test. If you pay $350 for a round-trip airline ticket and $19 for a non-resident fishing license and catch a 3-ounce fish, what is the price per pound? Mortifying!
Unwilling to risk a repetition I recruited Marsha's son Howard as the designated California fishing representative. He thoroughly enjoyed the experience and made a trophy hat this year for whoever caught the biggest fish. All the essentials were attached -- bobber, compass, multiple fishing lures and flies, a button proudly proclaiming, "If This Hat's Missin' I've Gone Fishin" along with basic medical supplies such as aspirin and a bandage. The embroidered visor served notice that the owner was a charter member of the "Laid Back Fisherman's Association" and a sales tag flapping in the breeze seemed to make the ghost of Minnie Pearl their patron saint.
The rivalry was instantaneous and intense and spawned a minimum of two daily fishing expeditions. They even used the excuse of taking the kids out just to have another chance to catch the big one. The bantering was incredible until John had what he described as his best fishing day ever and landed a pair of 17-inch small-mouth bass. They were magnificent and we all duly admired them as well as the fish fry he prepared. Howard ceremoniously placed the hat on John's head, cameras flashed and he reigned as the king fish[erman].
We left Saturday morning and regrouped at John's house in Milwaukee. Howard wanted to permanently mark the winner on the hat to make it a true traveling trophy and trouble soon surfaced. We wanted to show the date, winner, type of fish and length, but John wanted to add "Times Two" because he caught two equally large fish. We thought that was inappropriate and assumed the issue was settled until John approached me later and said we had to talk.
He was VERY upset because no one understood how important this was to him. I was upset because he singled me out -- the only non-participant. Then came his reasoning, reasoning I didn't want to hear. He pointed out that through my writing I sought understanding and acceptance from others who didn't necessarily relate to cross-dressing. Since I wanted them to understand something that was important to me, he concluded that I ought to be more willing to listen to the needs of others, even if those needs didn't seem important to me.
OUCH! I hate to be wrong, even worse about fishing, and when my it's my brother, arghhh! After all my groaning I had to admit he was right and I apologized. Do you know how often brothers do that? I promised to not only do better but even write about the learning experience and found a relevant quote from an unexpected source -- Albert Einstein:
"It is not enough that you should understand about applied
science
in order that your work may increase man's blessings.
Concern for man himself and his fate
must always form the chief interest of all technical
endeavors
...in order that the creations of our mind shall be a
blessing
and not a curse to mankind."
Although I'm not a scientist I can't let what I'm doing overshadow my concern for the fate of others. Sometimes it is important to care more about other things, including how my brother feels about small-mouth bass.
Do you have any bass that might be looking for more attention...?
