I always liked an old saying that said "Time spent fishing can not be deducted from a man's life." (I probably read it on a bumper sticker.) And even though I didn't go fishing very often as a kid - usually just when we visited Grandpa Jay - I always enjoyed it. Not only was it sort of relaxing and a chance to get out in the country but there's a thrilling sort of adrenaline rush from that feeling of a fish on the other end of the line, the way it pulls and fights. Even just having a pole and a small tackle box filled with hooks and sinkers and lures and bait always brought a strange sense of satisfaction. And I loved reading the fishing column in the old Boy's Life magazine that was so full of tips and information (the new Boy's Life has no such columns - it's more interested in selling stuff).
But maybe it's just as well I didn't grow up where fishing was close at hand because - honestly! - I don't even like to eat trout! (I only recently gained a taste for seafood.) The only river near my house was slow and muddy and brown, and although some kids said it had catfish the only fish anyone caught was carp - which I imagine I'd like even less than trout. Plus, once you catch the fish you have to kill it, and that always made me a little squeamish. I was fine with gutting and cleaning it, but I never liked hitting the poor thing with a stick or whacking its head on a rock like Grandpa showed us. So maybe wimps like me should just stick to reading, and enjoy the life the city has to offer (although I'm seriously looking forward to going fishing with the boy scouts in March!).