My Dad taught me to fish, shoot and hunt, not to mention how to fix stuff that gets broken. I have fond memories of those times. But, the one that I cherish most is when he accepted my independence. I think I was about 12 or 14 at the time.
When we fished, my job was to get him bait and put the fish he caught onto a stringer or in a fish basket. Truth is, I didn’t get to fish too much. But the day came, when he caught a fish and told me to put it on the stringer. I replied, "You put it on the stringer, I’m getting a bite." He kind of smiled and put the fish on the stringer. From that day forward, I was an equal fisherman. Sure, I still got him bait and put the fish up, but it was because I wanted to. I finally got to really fish and would try real hard to beat him in the number and size of the fish. Sometimes I did because he had taught me well. And, I was free to try my own techniques.
Dad was not an educated man. I think he went through the 8th grade. But, he understood that if I was to survive in the world, he had to let me go and make my own mistakes. He slowly left the role as a parent to tell me every move, to one that would bring him to me for help about things I knew that he didn’t. He trusted me. He was an independent man and he wanted me to be one.
We fished after I left home. Most of the time, he put his own fish on the stringer. I never let him drive my boat. We had fun.
Until he died, he never again tried to be boss to a little kid. He never interfered with what I did. If he needed help, he would let me know. And, if I need help, I would go to him. Neither happened very often. We were both independent.
We were poor so he never gave me a lot of material things. But, now I realize that what he gave me, money can’t buy.
When I get to fish now, I get my own bait and put the fish on the stringer.
It’s nice.
PMO
©2014
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