He knew right where he wanted to be, that grandson of mine.

He hurried into the office, bought a permit for $7.50 and drove us right to the spot he’d researched the day before.

“This is it Momsmom and Bobo, we’re here.”

Kyle was our first grandchild and as such had the right-of-privilege to name his family however it worked for him.

“Bobo” came from “Lobo” which is what I often call my husband…an old high school nickname.
He pulled “Nini” from Melissa. I didn’t get the connection, but he did.
And me? Just don’t call me “Grandma”, I wasn’t ready for that and so we settled on Momsmom because that’s who I am.

He was excited to get out of the car and get down to the water which looked like a little bit of a trail walk.

It was a very peaceful, serene day. The only sounds to be heard were chirping birds, a deep croak from a hiding frog somewhere and now and then a splash of water as the fish jumped out to tease and let him know they were there, come and get ‘em.

We began our journey down a dirt path with lots of green overgrowth on each side. There were large rocks scattered to step on and pieces of wood as makeshift steps. I found a stick lying on the ground and decided I needed it; a multi-purpose tool helping me with my balance on the rocks or if needed I could beat a rattlesnake with it. This just looked like rattlesnake territory.

When I mentioned that maybe there were rattlesnakes lurking, hoping to grab on to my leg and destroy me with their fangs, Kyle confessed that as he looked around, he knew that was a possibility. He also knew I wouldn’t get out of the car If I’d thought of it minutes earlier. Even a lizard zipping across my path would send me flying.

I could feel his excitement to get to the water but he walked behind me, watching that I didn’t trip over a rock or worse, a snake.

The trail was short and that was a good thing. I had a beach chair strapped to my back and I was carrying a bag full of things I can’t do without; suntan lotion, a book to read, pens, paper, highlighter, tape, scissors, spare glasses, bug spray and of course, my purse. Yes, I NEEDED all of that!

Lobo and Kyle carried the rest.

Kyle had a fishing vest on and all kinds of weird stuff hanging off of it. He looked like a Christmas tree covered with ornaments. He was also carrying our cooler filled with lunch and cold drinks and THREE tackle boxes loaded with enough things to catch a whale in case one happened by.

Lobo also had a chair strapped to his back and was carrying our beach umbrella. We knew we weren’t going to the beach but we also knew that it’s hot inland and the umbrella would shield the sun while Kyle reeled in fish after fish.

It took maybe two minutes to walk the path and get to the very long aluminum looking dock that extended maybe 50 feet out into the water.

There were 2 park benches, 2 trash containers and 1 fold-up chair permanently fixed along the dock.

It was a beautiful day, in the 80’s with a perfect soft, cool breeze.

I could hear the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Straight across this little body of water was a center where boats were rented and a small fishing gear shop where they probably sold worms for a hook right next to sandwiches for lunch. There was a park with tables and benches, a playground, bathrooms and a dock like the one we were standing on but it had lights on it, Kyle said the lights were for night fishing.
I could hear children’s voices.

There was one small row-boat parked in the middle of the lake with a man and two young boys. It looked like the man was the only one fishing.

We placed our gear down on the dock. We did our best to be quiet, didn’t want to scare the fish or piss off the fisherman in the boat.

Kyle put his 3 tackle boxes on the bench, searched through them for a moment and then pulled out a horrible looking thing with four nasty hooks on the end of it. He attached the weapon to his pole and out it went, into the water. Not even a bite of food for the fish to enjoy before his throat got ripped open with those hooks.

Soon we were hungry, well Lobo and I were hungry. Kyle, who like any growing young man is always hungry said he’d wait til later…this was a happening we’d never experienced before. His love for fishing was greater than his love for eating. Wish I could find something I liked better than eating!

We lunched on Subway Sandwiches, Doritos and soft drinks. There wasn’t one Bloody Mary to be found in that cooler, a horrid oversight!

It’s a beautiful setting with absolutely nothing to do but relax.

My cell phone rang. I was surprised there was even service where we were. I whispered a hello. It was my bloodhound daughter, Kyle’s mom. She’d been famous for finding me since she was a little girl. I don’t think I ever went out without a call sometime during the evening from Julie; restaurants, bowling alleys, grocery stores, libraries, friend’s homes and that was all BEFORE cell phones. In today’s world, I was always just 11 pushed numbers away. It was never an emergency unless you count the time she found me at the bowling alley to report one of the neighbor kids had crawled inside her sleeping bag and let a “gasser” then hurriedly crawled out. Yep, that’s the kind of calls I got and maybe why my bowling score was in the 40’s.

Kyle was moving all over the dock, throwing in his line, reeling it in and moving to another spot. I wanted to suggest he stay in one place for at least a minute but, he’s the fisherman, not me. I whispered to Julie on the phone that I thought he was an A.D.D. Fisherman!

He got a little too close to me while whipping that thing behind him then out into the water, I could feel that four-hooked thing getting closer to my hair. As he passed by me, he grabbed his sandwich; Subway on the run. His total concentration was on that pole, not the sandwich…mine was on my hair!

I watched him.
He’s 21 years old now.
He was just a little boy the first time we went fishing with him, maybe 10 years old.

There was a great park with a catch & release pond minutes from where we lived.
He spent a lot of time with us back then but he couldn’t fool me…it was about the fishing pond, not so much momsmom & Bobo.

He caught lots of little fish in that pond but they had to be immediately put back in the water. It wasn’t long before he was the proud kid who walked up and down the bridge helping other kids learn how to fish or how to take the poor suckers off the hook.

He wasn’t so lucky this day, no takers for that ugly hook thing or, possibly it was me…I was pretending to read my book but in reality, I was sending vibes to the fish; swim, swim as fast as you can, don’t take a bite from the four hooked man.