Surf Fishing

We took a “splurge vacation” this year. We haven’t taken a real vacation in many years, with seminary and moving, and other facets of ordained life to which we continue to adjust. But this year our eldest son, Daniel, leaves for college, and our younger son, Lucian the following year. So we were determined to have a week together as a family this year: a simple respite away from telephones and our normal routines, a week to read and think, a few meager days to get caught up on everything that is going on in each other’s lives, a brief time to remind one another that we are a family, a time to do those things that were meaningful many years ago – like having a catch with the boys, and a time to do those things that we missed out on earlier in our lives – like surf fishing.

As I attempted to pack the essentials for our “family vacation,” (a week before we left), reality began to set in. First, I couldn’t find a baseball to pack, and the only glove I found was rotted with mildew. Neither son wanted to bring the rafts that we’d had since 1989, (These include a really cool blow up shark and an alligator.) And my only fishing gear was a rusted reel made for fresh water and a rod that had a mangled rubber worm stuck to the end. A couple of generous parishioners having heard of my grandiose plans to surf fish offered to lend me some real gear. The one I finally borrowed once belonged to an Episcopal priest who had recently died. He had been a dear friend of mine and his family was kind enough to lend me his gear. I knew God’s hand must be in this endeavor now. I couldn’t imagine NOT catching some fish with this rod and reel! I received a lesson on surf fishing from my priest friend’s son and then came home with plans to present the rod and reel to my family, fully expecting to see glowing faced boys shriek with joyful anticipation of fishing with dad. They weren’t home. When they came home later that evening, the conversation was focused on when they might borrow the car, (and some money), and whether or not they could bring their girlfriends on our “family vacation.”  As my trembling began to subside, I looked over to Bernadette who was giving me that “Oh go ahead John – say yes – they’re young – they have wonderful girlfriends – and it’s their vacation too,” smile of hers. So I said, “Sure. You’re young, and have wonderful girlfriends, and it’s your vacation too. Of course your girlfriends can come.” They left the room and ran to the phone. I was left gawking at my borrowed fishing pole that no one had even noticed.     

The day of our departure came. The cars were loaded with all the equipment necessary for our “family vacation.” I’d packed Scrabble, Balderdash, Monopoly, puzzles, kites, Bocce Balls, a dozen books, and of course -- fishing gear. I had leaders, rigs, hooks, weights, bait knives, pliers, and fish cleaning tools – all packed perfectly in my new tackle box. I felt well prepared. After all, you can’t expect family closeness and love to spring up without the right equipment!

We arrived Saturday night, unpacked, and first thing Sunday morning, I was on the beach with my gear learning the nuances of the surf in the Outer Banks. I’d bought some fresh squid for bait and was surprised to see how big these squid were. I knew I’d catch something huge with bait this size! (I later learned you’re supposed to cut the squid into pieces.) My casting wasn’t bad. I was getting it out there pretty far, although the waves were breaking even further out. The weather was cool on this Sunday morn; there was a slight drizzle and although I was a little cold, I was on vacation. Although I wasn’t catching anything, I was wearing a great fishing hat. The squid were beginning to smell a bit funky as they lay out on top of my tackle box, but – hey! I was surf fishin’. 

Two hours later, I was ready to call it quits. The rain had become fairly steady and I was shivering to the point where I wasn’t sure casting was still safe. I hadn’t gotten even a nibble, and so I decided to do one more cast before heading back to the house. My final cast was a thing of beauty. Really. I hadn’t achieved that kind of distance with any of my previous efforts. To see that double rig loaded with those enormous squid, weighted down with two three ounce weights, hurling through the morning rain was absolutely inspiring. My shivering made it difficult to focus clearly, and the rain wasn’t helping either, but what I did see was actually beautiful. This cast would certainly clear the last row of developing waves and position me exactly where the fish were biting! As I stood in the surf, I raised the visor of my hat back with my shaking hand to more fully appreciate this miraculous cast. As I did, I noticed my fishing line dangling from the end of my rod. My line had snapped. The rig landed well beyond the waves connected to nothing at all. It was still beautiful.

I went home, cleaned my gear, and went inside to discover everyone still asleep. Phase two of my plans for the day was to persuade our sons and their girlfriends to join my wife and me on the porch for a brief celebration of Holy Eucharist. It was Sunday, after all. These plans too, proved futile. However, making breakfast for everyone got a sufficient response to get everyone out of bed. I didn’t try fishing again until Thursday – not so much because of my unsuccessful first try, nor so much because I spent the next couple of days in bed with the flu – but rather because I was eager to explore other activities that might be evidence of a real “family vacation,” like playing scrabble and reading together.  When I did try again, our youngest son joined me for a couple of casts, but alas we saw the same sad results that I had my first day out. I fished each of the remaining days of our “family vacation,” but never got a bite. Meanwhile my wife finished several books, our sons had some wonderful time with their girlfriends, and I got caught up on some reading.

I suppose “family” comes in the little moments we have NOW. Trying to recreate family or invent family contingent upon some imagined activity is silly. It’s really about the commitment we make to one another and how willing we are to just be with each other – more quantity time than quality time, I believe. As we prepare to send our son off to school and our days of being a family in the old way wear away, all that seems clearer. Thoughtful commitments require difficult choices and sacrifices now – and those thoughtful choices begin at home. I know that I should be grateful for the little moments that surprise and that are not planned.

As we drive home from the Outer Banks and I realize I have to return my borrowed gear, we pass a sporting goods store that’s having a sale on fishing gear. Could this be Divine Providence? Perhaps my personal little movie about family still has life??? Shall I buy my own gear? If it’s our equipment maybe the boys will be more eager to try it. Summer isn’t over yet. The burgundy colored one looks cool.  The collision with the stop sign left barely a dent in the front bumper. It was when the pole bent in half and the stop sign itself pierced the hood of our car that I realized I had wandered a bit to the right. It did give me a chance to get a better look at that rod and reel, though. And it gave my wife and sons another reason to remember our family vacation