This weekend I am taking my son fishing for the first time.
As a child, I used to go trout fishing with my grandpa. I can still remember the very first time that he took me out. I must have been about 8 years old. I squirmed the first time he made me bait my hook with the nightcrawler and then managed to catch my line in a nearby tree the first time I went to cast. It didn't take long before I had my first bite....a small rainbow trout that Gramps usually would have thrown back but he let me keep since it was my first. He taught me how to clean it and then gave me a bag to put it in to take home. Unfortunately, since I wouldn't let him put it in the cooler, the fish got too hot in the sun and ended up not getting to make it home to the frying pan.
Now that I live in the suburbs and am married to a "city boy", there aren't too many opportunities to expose my kids to the kind of things I grew up on ... fishing, camping, boating, hunting, etc. I wish my grandpa had gotten the chance to show my son those type of things. But, I know he'll be smiling from above on Saturday when my son manages to hook his first fish.
Tomorrow, my son and I won't be trout fishing but at least it's fishing....