I’m not going to pretend to understand anything about fishing. Nor do I want to be clued in to this bizarre and foreign activity that sweeps people into a state of obsession bordering on hypnosis. I went fishing once. Was 10 or 11 years ago and it was the only way to get my then boyfriend (now husband) to spend any time with me.
I was out on that boat for hours, then I caught a fish. It was a huge Striped Bass and I was pretty excited and certainly proud. I was also all done. I had been on that boat for hours being thrashed around by the waves and said boyfriend’s navigating skills. I caught the fish and I was complete. In my mind I had won, game over. I mean who needs to repeat that experience when what I really wanted was to be warm and comfortable.
Over the years I have learned to tolerate the sport. I married the obsessive fisherman and one of my HUGE concessions was to let him enjoy his stuff and I got other stuff in return. When we had our child he definitely put her and my welfare ahead of fishing, but as Chesca has gotten older his need to catch and release has crept back into our lives.
The Martha’s Vineyard Striped Bass and Bluefish derby has always been a particularly challenging time in our relationship. It is 30 days of fishing, smelling like fish, weigh-ins at night, and a missing person at the dinner table. If he is missing at dinner then you know there are other responsibilities that are being ignored in the name of ” The Derby”.
My peace has come with the realization that I don’t have to understand the drive to fish in order to see the benefits of fishing. My husband loves to fish. He’s a nicer person when he gets to balance out his day with a little fishing. He works really hard and deserves to unwind and find his serenity wherever he can.
The derby has daily and weekly prizes as well as the grand boat/truck/money that is presented at the end of the 30 days. It also has categories for children and they can get prizes. Sometimes my daughter will go out derby fishing with her dad and they bond, having the time of their lives catching fish. I get to stay home and read a book, a luxury that I don’t take lightly. If and when my husband goes over the edge into obsession-land, he has the self-awareness to recognize it and own up to it.
Today is the last day of the derby. My hubby’s not out fishing, he’s working towards some common goals that we share. It’s also a Nor’easter, whatever that means. I am going to miss the tiny power surge that I get when he asks if I mind if he goes. There is a small (and largely ignored) part of me that enjoys the knowledge that I could deny him his fishing time. He knows that I have no patience for it, and haven’t ever understood the endless pursuit. But I want him to be happy. If this is what does it, who am I to complain? Fish on.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I know so many people who would rather spend all day standing around in waders with a pole in their hand than do just about anything else. I don’t get it. When I ask them what they do when they catch a fish, they usually say, “I release it.”
That makes even less sense! I guess I’m just not cut out to fish.
Here Here! Give them their space and everyone’s the better for it!
You would know! We share a similar type of man, If yours recruits mine to walk the chop at night I might take issue…