Fishin’…it is in the blood
January 16, 2012
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Some of my fondest memories with my dad occurred while we fished. And among the many great memories with my sons, fishing played a big part. In fact, among the verbs that serve as chapter titles for the book, one of them is fishin’.
For Lillian’s 2011 Christmas–her first to be old enough to be able to use anything that appeared under the tree or in the stockings hung with care–her youngest uncle, Cameron, bought her a pink princess fishing rod. A little spincast rig. It quickly became her favorite toy. Cameron, who has taken fishing further than any McInnis has (he is on the Hobie fishing team now), was very proud of the gift and then of her love of it.
Dion called the other day to remind me that Lillian loved the rod and that she would grab the rod and walk up to him saying “fish.” He described how they would get on the sofa (boat) and fish. I could see the image as clearly in my head as if he handed me a photograph to add to my cardboard Daddin’ box. As McInnis stories are wont to do, this one continued. After a while of imaginary fishing, they used their collective rich imaginations and sense of play to take the sport to the next level of reality, particularly for a living room.
He went on to describe tying liver doggie snacks onto the end of the line so they could fish and catch something live…their beloved family dog, ACe. I bust out laughing at the scene in my mind; my heart melted at the thought of the laughter that father and daughter shared; and, I smiled gently at the memories that were being made. I trust their fun was catch and release. It is good practice; parenting is catch and release, over and over and over again.