take a grandson fishing

Add a Day to Your Life-Take a Grandchild Fishing

We’ve all heard it said that God never counts a day of fishing against your life span. Who knows, maybe He’ll even toss in an extra day if you take a grandchild fishing. And maybe even a third day if the child manages to snag a fish on that first trip.

That’s what happened to Gayle and me when a couple Saturdays back, we went fishing for the first time in a few years.

We’ve had our boats, and always got a kick out of fishing the river and lake. Once, years back, we had a deep V in which we went offshore—offshore to me being no more than a couple miles from the beach.

Once we had a twenty-one foot pontoon boat, and believe me, cumbersome as they are, they are ideal fishing platforms. We sold our last boat, a jon boat, a couple years back. It had been setting up for the past ten.

Now, we bank fish at Sabine Lake, and usually we do okay. More than anything, it’s a chance to relax, soak up some sun and breathe in the fresh, clean air off the water.

A month or so back, the older grandson, Keegan, who is almost five, mentioned something about fishing. At that age, their little I-want-this and I-want-that minds jump from one interest to the other faster than a cricket dodging a hungry chicken.

I just figured he’d let it drop, but he didn’t.

One day he popped in and informed me he had found the ideal fishing pole at Target.

Again, I just figured he’d let it drop, but, guess what? He didn’t.

Without warning, all the planets fell into line, Mars was larger than it would be for the next trillion years, and the day arrive when we kept him because both his Mom and Dad were working. Fate couldn’t have dealt out a better hand to the little guy, so, we decided, why not?

That morning, we found him a small Zebco rod and reel, a Lightning McQueen outfit. Back at the house, I pulled out our tackle boxes, brushed ten years of dust and debris off them; dusted, then washed and oiled the fishing rods and reels; finally managed to find a couple that worked well.

I’m not even going to go into the problems we faced getting licenses on a Saturday. But we got them.

We decided to go to Sabine Lake. We could have fished down at Port Neches Park, but the little guy would have had to wear a lifejacket, and the ninety-degree plus sun was too hot.

We fished the south revetment with all the rocks where I quickly discovered ten years had handily curtailed my balance as I tried to bounce from one rock to another. While I was bouncing, Gayle was catching fish. Finally we gave up and headed down to the causeway.

The beach was sandy, the water shallow, and believe it or not, the fish were biting, more or less.

Keegan quickly shed his shirt while I threw out his bait and handed him his rod.
In the meantime, Gayle caught another fish.

And then Keegan had a strike, and his line drew tight and the tip of his rod bent down.

Oh, was he excited, yelling for his ‘MeeMee’ to come help.

He did the most of it, and hauled in a fat little redfish about fifteen inches long. After we took a few pictures, we turned the fish back, explaining to the little guy we had to obey the law.

We were out two, maybe three hours, and all three of us were ready to come home and hop in the swimming pool.

Maybe next time, he’ll catch one that Gayle can fry up for him.

I know one thing, from the look on his face and the way he laughed, he’s got the making of a lifelong fisherman.

The other grandson is Mikey. He isn’t quite three. Another couple years, and we’ll have a team of fishermen around here.

Do you think God might toss in a fourth extra day for another grandson?

Oh, well, even if He doesn’t, it’s worth it.