Plenty Of Fish

By Patrick Thompson | @someimaginationtx

I FISH. BUT I’M NOT A FISHERMAN.

I caught my first fish at maybe… age 8.

We were fishing for rainbow trout (foreshadowing?) in a stream in Ruidoso, New Mexico while visiting my grandparents. I had a cheap fishing rod - maybe a $5 rod and reel combo from Walmart. I don’t exactly recall the bait we used, but it looked like the small red berries you’d see on Christmas wreaths.

At the time, the art and technique of fishing had not really been explained to me very well.

My baited hook was in the water. That’s a good start… right?

My brother and dad were both getting bites and managing to reel a few trout in.

I was… not.

This went on for a bit, and I decided to cross the stream to try another location. I found a place on the banks in front of this massive rock face in the sun and anxiously waited for something to strike.

I felt the tiniest of nibbles on my line… and I jerked the the rod so hard and so fast that the line (with fish on the hook) came flying out of the water, arced over my head, and hit the rock face behind me with this awesome “Splat!”

Nuanced fishing and “setting the hook” be damned.

I got my first fish. In my mind, there was applause.

Fast forward through many years of fishing catfish at my other grandparents’ stocked pond near their house in Bellville, Tx. We tried so many different baits. Worms, bacon with stink bait, grapes. Seasonally, all these baits worked well - and I always had a (frustrating) blast here.

My brother and I were staying with my grandparents for the week, and we came home with a stringer of catfish - having no clue how they transition from catfish to dinner. My grandmother - who was the most kind, gentle, and soft person I knew - took the fish from us, laid the still-moving fish on a cinder block, and bashed their heads in with a hammer. I know now that there are better ways to dispatch a fish… but this was a moment of grandmother badass-ery that I didn’t expect - and I won’t forget.

Several years later - I met Justin. Through our relationship, we started digging into fishing. For the most part - we’ve been wildly unsuccessful in\around Dallas. It seems like our luck only exists outside of Texas.

During our honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta, we went off-shore fishing. The boat captain had huge rods and laughably large lures - which I had never seen before. We both ended up catching about eight amberjacks… and while I don’t have a lot to compare them to, these guys put up a FIGHT. Forget the gym. Fish amberjacks.

Justin and I have had some great success at his brother and sister-in-law’s pond in Missouri. We had spent a few mornings turkey hunting - and hoped to offset our lack of bird with a stringer of catfish. I think we caught 9 on this recent trip…. and shared a GLORIOUS meal with his brother and sister-in-law.

The fish is good. The time outdoors is great. But what I’ve gotten out of fishing is memories. Family. Legit quality time that somehow hits deeper than most activities.

I still can’t explain what everything in our tackle box is supposed to be used for… or what rod should be used for which type of fish. But I do know that if I can spend a few hours on a river bank - even if I don’t bring home any fish, I won’t be coming home empty handed.