Remembering My Dad
The lure that survived the years
WHEN I WAS YOUNG, my dad and I fished all the time—mainly for panfish, but we would troll plugs in the summer, fishing for whatever would bite. Every now and then, we’d land a nice bass. After my mom and dad got divorced, I still went fishing with my dad. And when he moved to Florida, I spent summers with him, catching crappie and bluegills. Then one summer, something changed.
As I stepped into the boat, I noticed that, in the place of the panfish poles, Dad had fancy bass fishing rods and reels. I was puzzled, not just by the bass equipment, but also by its quality. You see, my dad wasn’t usually the kind of guy who bought top-of-the-line gear. He made do with what he had and saved his money—but not, apparently, when it came to bass fishing. I still smile at the memory. I knew it could mean only one thing: My dad was hooked.
Throughout that day, a question nagged at me. Dad wasn’t the kind of man to volunteer information, so I finally asked him what had changed. What was it that made him a full-on bass fisherman?
“You see that minnow lure tied on that rod?” he asked, pointing to the left without looking. I saw it, and to keep the story going, I asked him if he meant the green one with an orange belly. “Yep, that’s the one.”
“It has cool eyes,” I said, releasing it from the hook keeper and slowly turning it to admire it closely. “So, how did this lure turn you into a bass fisherman?”
“Well,” he said, casting to the lily pads, “I was fishing for bluegill one morning, and I saw that lure floating in the water. I retrieved the lure and tied it to my bluegill pole. I made a cast to the pads and made one twitch. I caught a 5-pound bass—and I was hooked.”
When my dad passed away, he left me some rods and reels and an old tackle box. It had been at least 35 years since the green minnow story, and to be honest, I hadn’t thought about it since then. I checked out the rods and reels, then opened the tackle box.
I picked through the tackle, hoping to find something that was meaningful after all those years. At the bottom of the tackle box, I saw the lure with the cool-looking eyes. A tear instantly came to my eye. I’m happy I have the lure to remind me of those great days in Florida, fishing for bass with my dad.
