A Wharf Story

A cool summer breeze blew across the waters that early Saturday morning as friends and family gathered for the annual food fishery to get ready to go out on the water. A couple of wharves down an old man sat on a bench at the end of the jetty watching these young people go out in their fancy boats with their fancy fishing gear thinking of the ways it was when he was a younger fellow. Them days were different he thought to himself, it was a way of life and not some family pleasure thing the government cooked up after they canceled the fishery and took it away.

A short time later a young lad of maybe eight or nine wandered down to the jetty where his great grandfather was sitting on the bench. “Hi grandpa, whats ya doing?” he asked. “Are you going out fishing with us later?” he asked and the old man turned his head and nodded. “Not today my son, it’s not like I use to do it?” he said. “Oh!” said the little boy as he crawled up on his grandpa's lap. “How did you use to fish when you were little like me?” he asked as his great grandfather smiled at him, hugged him, and asked if he would like to hear a story about his dad's first time and the way we fished back then. The little boy's face lit up with a grin as the old man began his story and the little boy let his mind wander.

It was late in the fall, the old man began. A cool wind was blowing up the bay that day and the water was a little choppy and your father didn’t want to go out cause he said it was too rough and I looked at him and said that if the swells go above your boat and when you come up and the hook comes out of the water, then it’s too rough he said as he clapped the young fellow on the back. Now come on and grab your gear and put it in the boat. The little two-stroke putt-putt my father use to call it, but it got the job done when needed be and before you knew it they were off. Across the bay and down the neck into the open ocean is where we're headed I said as I guided the small boat along its way. When the wind picked up a little I put up this small sail and shut down putt-putt and let the wind guide us and soon enough we were out of the channel and in open water surrounded by twenty or thirty other boats.

We unwind our lines and watched our jigger float down into the darkness for a little while and then we would start bobbing the line and it wasn’t long before your father snagged something almost pulling him over if I never grabbed him by his breaches. Arm over arm he started pulling his line up as fast as the fish would let him, I say it was about twenty minutes by the time he got it to the surface, and it was a beaut, about 20 pounds or so and the grin on your fathers face, I can still see it now as he looks down upon us, every time the sun shines or the rain falls his smile always pull through.

There you are you little rascal, I wondered where you ran off too. Grandpa, great grandpa was telling me a story of when dad first went out fishing and I want to fish just like my dad did so he can be proud of me. What do ya say grandpa? You up for it? Well, how can I say no to a face like that, now go and get your stuff. How about you dad? You got one more trip in putt-putt with us?

That was the last story great grand-pa told me and now he looks down on us with dad as they travel in that putt-putt in the sky.