A Midsummmer's Night (Fishing) Dream

A MIDSUMMER’S NIGHT (FISHING) DREAM

By
David McClain


The old Chevy truck bumped and bounced along the rutted trail that served as a road, the headlights barely piercing the pre-dawn darkness that obscured the deep forest on either side.

Seated in the cab of the truck were two men, and a twelve-year-old boy. The man driving the truck was the boy’s father, the other man seated next to the passenger door, was the boy’s uncle Frank. This morning marked the first time the young man had been allowed to go with the two grownups on a serious, Men only, fishing trip and the he was ecstatic.

He could hardly wait to get to the lake and show these two grizzled outdoorsmen he was worthy of the honor they had bestowed on him. At the same time he was scared, afraid that he might, in some way, prove to be a hindrance to the two biggest heroes of his young life.

As the truck made its way toward the fishing hole, the two men talked softly among themselves about the morning’s strategy they would use. He listened intently, not daring to interrupt these two wise fishermen with his little-boy questions.

As the first weak rays of sunlight were clearing the horizon they arrived at the banks of the old lake where they would fish that morning. He helped the men unload the rods and the tackle boxes from the back of the truck and he felt six feet tall and thirty years old as he lugged his share of the tackle to the water’s edge.

He watched every move the older men made and tried his best to copy everything they did. He was determined to do good!

With slow deliberate movements he tied the Heddon Chugger, the bait all three would use that morning, to his line. This done, they fanned out along the banks of the lake to begin casting for the big black bass know to inhabit the waters of the old lake.

The son stood at a point between his father and his uncle, with either man being about thirty feet from him. The reason for this, he was sure, was so the two men could keep an eye on him. His father and uncle were busy casting their baits upon the smooth water of the lake but the boy held back. He was afraid to make his first cast. “What if I backlash?” He thought to himself miserably. He would rather die than look incompetent in the eyes of the two older men.

“Throw it out there boy!” His father called to him with a smile. “You aint gonna catch nothing up here on the bank.”

Drawing a deep breath, he brought the rod back then whipped it forward launching the bait through the air. To his delight the bait flew in a perfect arc, and fell with a soft KERPLOP, right at the base of an old stump that protruded from the lake about fifty feet out. From the corner of his eye the boy saw his father smile at the cast he had just made. His chest swelled with pride. He had done it just right, now all he had to do was retrieve it just right too!

He let the bait float undisturbed on the surface for five full seconds, then, as the ripples from its landing died away, he flicked the end of his rod causing the bait to dip below the surface then pop back up again.

Silently he counted to three then slowly began to retrieve the bait, popping the end of the rod with each turn of the reel handle. Worked in this manner, the bait made a soft “chug, chug, chug” noise as it moved through the still water. The bait made it only about six feet from its landing point when, suddenly, the water around it exploded!

Every nerve in the boy’s body seemed to jump when the huge bass struck his bait. With a jerk he set the hook and the battle was on! His father and uncle had abandoned their rods and were yelling words of advice and encouragement to him and begin to edge closer so they could help him if needed. He was not aware of the shouts, or anything other than the bass jumping wildly at the end of his line.

Within seconds it was over, though to the boy it seemed like hours. He stood beaming on the bank, holding a nice six-pound bass. His father and uncle were at his side slapping him on the back, and praising his skill. His head was spinning; he felt such a rush of joy of accomplishment that he thought he would burst.

With newfound confidence, he strung the fish on his stringer and, acknowledging the praise of the men with a smile, he began to fish again…………………

My eyes opened with a snap. For a length of time measured only in heartbeats, I lay still, trying to keep the dream going.

I remembered that fishing trip that had happened so many years ago as if it were only yesterday. Both men were long since passed away and I was a grown man with a family of my own, but the feeling of that fishing trip was with me now as if it had just happened. I was surprised to find tears in my eyes, something else that had not happened in years.

Looking at the glowing hands of my wristwatch I saw that daylight was only a couple of hours away. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. It seemed so right.

Getting out of bed, I began to pull on my pants and shirt. The noise woke my wife, who rose stiffly to one elbow.

“What on earth are you doing getting up at this hour?” she demanded.

I smiled down at her as I finished buttoning my shirt. “Get up,” I said, “and go wake up our son, me and him are going fishing!”

We went fishing that morning, my son and I, and we had the kind of fun only a father and his child can have when they share something they both love. Somehow, I felt we were not alone while we were fishing. I felt like my own father was watching and that he approved.

So, if you have a son or a daughter for that matter, don’t put it off; take them fishing with you. I guarantee the memory of that trip will last your child the rest of their life.