Caleb (left) and his brother about the age he last saw his dad:
Meanwhile, I gritted my teeth good-naturedly and packed a bag with things to do.
Not. Nearly. Enough.
|The artist at work.|
|10 minutes later: the artist bored out of her skull and nearly frozen to death.|
Fishing is the perfect sport for male bonding opportunities. You stand (or sit) around, not talking much, and staring into space. The only thing that could make it more perfect is the occasional guttural growl or full-body tackle.
Now if two women were getting together after not seeing each other for 7 years, they'd go get their nails done, have a facial, do lunch, hit the shops, and all the while be exchanging more information than two Cray Titan supercomputers.
I asked Caleb about it afterward and he said they'd been having a mind-meld. Okay, then. As long as you both felt bonded, that's good enough for me. I do not have to understand men.
Caleb was the only fisherman to make a catch that day. And all he caught was duckweed.
But from what I understand, fishing is about the experience, anyway. Or maybe that's just what they tell themselves after they don't catch any fish! Still, it was a great day and one that both of them will remember with happiness for the rest of their lives.
I guess that is enough success for anyone.