The Man Who Taught Me to Fish

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a tribute to fathers

We hopped into the family car and headed to the lake while my mother stayed at our campsite to prepare the evening meal on a green Coleman camp stove. I had been begging my father to teach me to fish and my preschool excitement was bubbling over. Daddy pulled out two fishing poles and as the cool lake-sized waves gently splashed onto my feet he baited the two hooks. A couple feet of line above the squirming hooked worm he attached a small red and white bobber and explained to me that when I caught a fish the bobber would signal to me by going under water. Then he helped me cast out the line and I stood there on the bank anxiously watching and waiting. The time passed too quickly and my bobber was still floating when he told me to reel in my line because it was time to go back to camp for our dinner. Sadly I obeyed. As I raised the baited hook up from the water I was shocked and delighted to see a tiny, silver fish dangling there, water dripping from its tail, too lightweight to pull even my little bobber underwater. The excitement of my first catch quickly turned to sorrow as my father threw it back into the lake explaining that it was too small to keep. As I cried he consoled me with the promise that there would be more fish in my future worthy of taking back for the skillet.

My father was a good man. Although he had to drop out of school after third grade to pick cotton and help with the family income, he was very intelligent and he hungrily studied on his own for the remainder of his life. Along with three of his brothers signing up, he joined the US Navy and fought in World War II. Stationed on a submarine in the Pacific he learned the trade (machinist tool and die maker) that would support himself and his future family.

In my father’s day gender roles were clearly defined. The cultural expectation for a man of his time was to love and be faithful to his family and to work hard to provide for his family food, housing, security, and protection. Although throughout my growing up years our budget was meager my Daddy excelled in fulfilling that role. His work in the machine shop paid the bills and bought a farm. In the evening and on weekends he worked with my mother tilling the land to grow vegetables and caring for chickens, cattle, and hogs thereby putting the bulk of our food on the table year round.

My father didn’t stop with loving, providing for, and protecting his family but also invested time in my siblings and me. With an eight year old begging for her first bicycle he found parts from scrapped bicycles, assembled them, and at Christmas presented me with a beautiful, kelly green bike, which he then also taught me to ride.

In fifth grade I read a book about Australia and asked my parents how a boomerang worked. So my daddy made me a wooden boomerang and taught me how to use it. He taught me how to roller skate at three and at twelve taught me how to use a box camera. He taught me to shoot a gun at thirteen and at sixteen he taught me how to change a tire.

Both my father and mother read constantly setting an example for me to become a voracious reader. He instilled in me my love for nature and the outdoors by taking me on walks in the woods and taking our family tent camping most every summer weekend.

Was my father a perfect man? Of course not, he had human imperfections as we all do. But those were far, far outweighed by my memories of the good, honest, honorable, hardworking, loving man that he was.

After I was grown he and my mother were able to open their own tool and die shop and life was suddenly easier for them. Even then they shared their blessings with me and my young family. In my youth I didn’t really appreciate the gift I had but now than I’m older I look back and am thankful for my secure foundation provided by the godly man that was my Daddy.

Everyone needs a father in their life. Sometimes, though, life deals a different hand; tragedy happens or men don’t live up to their responsibilities and then mothers are left to carry a heavy load as single parents. (Special honor also goes to the fathers who have stepped up as single parents.) I believe we live in a time when the role of father has been undermined, disrespected, even despised. I believe that the root of many of the ills of our society is the scarcity of godly father figures. But the presence of God as our perfect Father brings an indescribable security to the soul who will accept him. I am deeply grateful for my godly earthly father, but I am even more grateful for my holy, almighty Eternal Father who loves me beyond any human’s capacity and provides me with complete security and everything I will ever need.

Let’s take time this week to honor the men in our lives who have poured their time and energy into enabling us to become who we are.

“…I will be your Father, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.” ~NLT

“The name of the Lord is a strong fortress; the godly run to him and are safe.”  ~NLT

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