They say (don’t know who “they” are) that one of the best ways for young boys to bond with their dad is to go fishing together. That may be true for boys whose dad knows anything at all about fishing. My son, Jim was not lucky enough to have such a dad. Fish, for this New York City boy, came from a fish store, supermarket, can or freezer.
One fine Friday, circa spring, 1976, my friend, next door neighbor and BTW my boss, Col. Bob, said something like, “Don, why don’t we take the boys fishing tomorrow?” The “boys” were my son Jim and my boss’ son, Chris. They were good friends about the same age (about 9 or 10). Ohh the dilemma! Do I tell the boss no and potentially end my fledgling career as a major, and possibly destroy an opportunity to bond with my son? Or do I agree, hope Jim don’t wanna go, lie to my boss about loving to fish, and get ready to go fishin at 5am the next morning. You guessed it I caved.
Going fishin from Scott AFB meant getting up at “cock piss”–a phrase my mom taught me meaning very early–in the morning to hook the boat to your car or pickup. I believe he had a big car. Then driving about 40 miles to Lake Carlisle. Then finding a vacant dock from which to get your damn boat in the freakin water. I had already confessed to Col Bob that I knew zip-a-dee-doo-dah about fishing.
He said patiently, “Don’t worry, Don, It’s easy, and I’ll teach you.” I had nothing. Bob loaned me a rod and reel and provided some bait (worms) yuk.
We got the boat in the water and Col. Bob, his son Chris, my son Jim, and moi were off fishing and bonding like all get out.

Oh, did I tell you it was pouring rain? It was. The outing was essentially a success. But the best part was my boss telling everyone in the office the next workday, “You should have seen Don. I never saw someone cuss like crazy every time a fish got on his line. There he was with water dripping off his nose cussing because he had to take the damn fish off the hook and throw it back. All I caught was little inedible crappy (not a real fish name) fish. I think I caught a crappy cold too.
Well, did I bond with my son? He still talks to me, if that’s a sign. I wasn’t the most attentive dad around and won’t get a “dad of the year” award. But, I’m sure proud of how they all grew up and who they have become, thanks primarily to themselves. Enuf.