Tribute to My Father

I call this page My Support System for the best and most obvious reasons. They are the
circle that surrounds me now, the ones who support, endure and share in my life. But I have been remiss in acknowledging the first most important influence to my love of fishing: My Father. No one goes through life alone, and without being taught thebasics of any skill by the hand of experience. In the instance of fishing, each of us remembers the person who helped us catch our first fish-usually one of INFINITE patience and resolve to teach.

My father encouraged me from the start to not recognize limitations because of gender, but realize the ability to pursue and excel in sport, and in life. He took me fishing often, with the occasional saltwater venture. He hunted also, belonged to a hunting club, fished with his buddies, but the circle was closed to wives and daughters, who were only onlookers, never participants. I remember the day when I was 11 that I walked into the tackle store with Dad, and purchased my first reel; a Mitchell 300, with my own saved-up money. Dad had been pretty firm in his assertion that I should have my own tackle now-and that all of his I'd used for years were off-limits from then on...I had reached my coming of age and propriety that day in 1967, which was heralded in by catching a 4 LB. bass locally, and having my photo in the newspaper. Dad carried that clipping around with him to show EVERYBODY until it fell apart. It was still in his wallet after he passed.

Dad's style of quiet teaching was simple- whether it was fishing, hunting, shooting, playing pool, bowling, etc.: Watch/Make Mistakes/LEARN. He always invited me to come along with him; we enjoyed it all and we were a Team. Even after I'd left the nest, got married and settled , he'd give me a wink and I'd grab my jacket. I can't count how many times my father wanted to take me with him on those club and crony trips, to Canada for pike and bass, and snow-covered hunting grounds. And year after year, he always managed a phone call to tell me what his bagwas, and how he wished I could be there to exercise the skills I learned so well. But that was the way it was-we couldn't change rules, we couldn't change minds. Now is not the 60's, 70's, or even 80's for women. Dad passed away before I joined the fishing club- but I know he would have joined right along with me, our Mitchell 300's in hand.Those 25 year old iron-clads started me out in tournament fishing, until I finally wore them out one by one. I think of Dad often when I'm on the water, with his dog tags in my pocket from him, and a charm from my Mother too. And to my Mother's contributions to my life in fishing....that's ANOTHER story for another day!

I learned well. I remember well.

Thank you Richard Robert 1926-1987

(Originally posted on Lady Bass Anglers Cyber Club Website: 9/9/1999)