Way back when we were just upand- comers, he was newly married, with a child on the way; I was single.
He couldn’t afford a boat; I had a boat. We liked to fish together, so he’d say, “ Your boat; I’ll have my wife make us a lunch.” First thing in the usually very early hours, we’d meet up; he’d have a hot thermos of coffee and something she had baked recentlybanana bread or cookies or apple fritters- a nice way to start any morning. Lunches back then were a lot of peanut butter sandwiches.
Now, evidently, a few years go by, and I wasn’t about when he expressed to his wife, it sure would be nice to get out of the boat and stretch once in a while, but he gets in the boat in the morning, and he doesn’t get out until the fishing days are done. She says, “ Oh, I can fix that. Next time you go fishing, I guarantee you, you’ll get your leg stretches.”
So again, this is many many years ago, to me just another regular fishin trip with my buddy, he jumps in my truck, we start to hash over some fishing things and I asked, “So what’s for lunch?” he says I don’t know, but she gave me a kiss goodbye, handed me a book of matches, and said good luck, and I’m not supposed to open the lunch box until lunch time.
I didn’t give it another thought, until my stomach started growling, and I offered, how about handing me a sandwich, he says oh sure. He opens the satchel, pulls out some brats, and some buns. So over to shore we go.
Out came the matches. We grilled up the brats; all was well. I didn’t like losing the fishing time; I told him so, but the die in our life was now cast.
We never went fishing again without stopping to grill up, fry up or boil up something. What started out as an inconvenience, in my opinion, way back when, well, now it’s my absolute favorite part of the day.
--The trout whisperer
