Catching fish means removing some hooks.
Fishing.
For my formative years of life, before I cared about boys and acting somewhat girly, often I was found barefoot with my hands wrapped around a line that was dropped in a lake.
Looking just like this.
Except I didn’t use such a fancy-shmancy lure. We only had hooks and purple worms.
When my daughter caught this little bass yesterday, she tried to remove the hook.
So she called to me from the squishy, muddy lake’s edge to help her remove the hook.
Eew.
I can’t do that anymore.
Where was my son?
The son that caught this guy earlier.
Well, he was far away catching things out on a boat in the bay.
Poo.
So we struggled.
Actually, my daughter ended up getting the hook out fairly quickly.
See, she didn’t mind touching the fish. Which now in the intervening decades has begun to gross me out.
Yes, if you play with a rod and reel you better be willing to touch some fish.
Or bring your daughter fishing with you.
Do you fish? Or did you back when you could touch their slime-coated bodies straight out of the lake….?
