Guest Article by Bill Scherk
For a lot of us, fishing is about traditions. I have several in my boat.
For instance, folks always notice the random coin or two on the floor. In fact, I’ve had to ask more than one fishing buddy to drop the coins and put ‘em back on the floor. See, several years ago I was cleaning out the boat and found a quarter on the floor and thought, “Better not get rid of that.” “It’s gotta be good luck.” Ever since? Coins on the floor. This year it’s a single, lonely dime. Another of my favorite traditions is the snacks. I always keep a bag of salted, in-the-shell peanuts and also a sack of saltwater taffy handy. That tradition’s less about chance and more about family. See, when I was five or six years old, Dad would load up the old fiberglass tri-hull and we’d hit the water. He’d always make sure I had plenty of peanuts and taffy. We’d sit on the water and bobber fish for sunnies. I’d litter his boat with spent peanut shells. I also had an incredible knack for tangling (beyond repair) my Zebco closed-face reel. I’d hand it off to Dad and he’d hand over my sister’s combo. The exact same rod and reel, except for the single black dot of spray paint. Dad put that dot on the handle to keep my sister and me from bickering over who owned which rod. The stuff my dad put up with….
30 years later, Dad and I are still fishing together and yes, we still have snacks in the boat. He laughed a bit as he told me the story a year or two back about those snacks. Turns out, the peanuts and taffy were the only things he could come up with to buy him a bit of non-chaotic fishing time. I’d sit in silence cracking peanuts and chomping on taffy. He’d have a few moments to fish without interruption. He still laughs when he tells me that darn story. Our tackle boxes of memories are full and overflowing. He’s currently ribbing me over the big pike of his I lost boatside a few weeks back in Ontario (my fault completely). I still jab him for only fishing red and white Little Joe Spinners. He just holds up his fish and smiles…That’s the kind of stuff that happens when familes fish together.
I fish with Dad. He fished with his Dad. It’s just the way we are. In fact, .just a few weeks ago, I started a new Sherck tradition. My young son Brady donned his favorite life vest and the two of us fished Minnesota’s Walleye opener. An hour of panfish capped with ice cream back at the cabin. You might say he’s now “hooked”. Brady keeps asking me to go, as he calls it, “feeshin”. Our trips are short, but no less sweet. And guess what? I’ve got a bucket of peanuts and taffy every time Brady steps into the boat.