Fishing With Dad 1975

As a young boy growing up, my Dad never took me fishing or hunting. Dad did not do either of those things, he worked all week to earn money to pay the bills and to put food on the table. On Saturdays, he would take Mom to the grocery store to buy groceries and cigarettes. The rest of the day he might do tasks around the house or drop us kids off at the movie theater on occasions. Dad liked his coffee, hot and black, and to read the newspaper. He read every article every day.

When Dad turned 65, he retired from the job he liked a lot. Not because it was a great job, but because the owner appreciated the work he did and how he did it. Working in a machine shop is not pleasant and I know firsthand. In those days, it was extremely hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The metal dust could get in your eyes, throat, and your lungs. He was offered other jobs working with the newer machines that had CNC functions; however, the machine he worked with was a rare machine that could process products that other machines could not handle. The training for that machine took much longer to learn and new workers wanted to learn the new machines. The owner of the company tried to get Dad to continue to work after he turned 65, but Dad had emphysema and he did not want to die on the job.

Dad had no hobbies or activities that he enjoyed other than going on trips with Mom, but Mom was still working at the school during the school year. So many days, Dad would drink his coffee, smoke his cigarettes, and read the paper. Dad was not a handyman around the house, but if I asked him to help me with a project, he would be there to help. Some of those projects were planned to get time with him and we would talk about things I never knew about him or Mom. The bonding that I missed as a young child was occurring and my opinions from my youth began to be replaced with better feelings.

I had bought a boat that was not new, but it was safe and good for fishing on lakes. I talked Dad into going fishing with me on some occasions and he seemed to enjoy doing that. In the Spring of 1975, we went fishing on Lake Conroe. Back then, there were many trees in the upper part of the lake where there was a good chance of catching fish. Dad liked fishing for crappies and developed the patience and touch for it. He was doing something he had never done as a youngster or adult. He was calm and would smile when he was taking a fish off the hook.

I am so glad that I took time out for those one-on-ones with Dad during his last few years with us. Just making that a priority to be with him. It is so easy to forget what our parents did for us during our early years and not think about how important to just be there when they need time with you. I am reminded of the song “Give Me More Time” by George Strait.