As a kid growing up, my brothers and I were more or less forced to fish together. My parents didn’t want us fishing alone, and most of the time it wasn’t an issue. Other times, like all brothers, there was a little fighting. Who had to row, where we would fish, how we would fish, should we try a different spot, was it time to go in, etc. Still, the good times far outnumbered the bad. It was one passion we all shared…we loved to fish.
When it was time to go off to college, we all went our separate ways. During that time, I meet other people that loved to fish. It was fun fishing with friends. It had that kind of that new relationship type of feeling. It was different. I met and fished with a lot of great guys, some that are still friends today, but over time it wasn’t the same.
As my brothers and I finished school, we suddenly lived closer again. My younger brother, Mark, and I even lived together for a couple years. Eric was only a two hour drive away compared to ten hours when he was at school. They joined my new found fishing circle and fit right in. As we got older, we started to realize time on the water was about some thing different. It wasn’t just about catching fish, but more about our time together. Soon, most of our fishing trips were just with each other. It seemed to happen naturally, and there was that familiarity and history. Like an old relationship. The value of my time on the water with my brothers is tough to calculate. There were often times we decided not to go fishing because the other couldn’t make it, or even all three of us. There are things we would feel guilty about experiencing if the others weren’t there.
With growing families, the our time on the water together is similar to when we were all away at school. Still, we make plans multiple times a year to fish. They are some of my most cherished days on the water.
