Sunday, June 3, 2001

Fishing with Dad

Brad Lomax kept the mood light and memorable during a day of fishing, which was a birthday gift to his son, Richard (foreground)

Two separate and distinct images of Dad grace my memory. One impression places my father's stern face in a domestic setting. And in the other, a rural scene frames a much kinder countenance. In one, Dad's scolding shrill is frightening, though probably well deserved. But a much softer speak accompanies his personae on the water and in the field.
   No, he wasn't afflicted with multiple personality disorder.
  These descriptions of Dad's wide-ranging disposition are more a product of my simplistic memory than anything. Truth be told, he was a complex man of many moods.
   The point is, I associate the outdoors with my father in a most favorable light. The consequences of this view flow both ways.
   In other words, I associate good times with the outdoors, thanks, in part, to Dad, and I associate the outdoors with warm memories of him, as it should be. I'm not sure Dad knew he held the key to my lifelong view of fishing and hunting. But he couldn't have played it better if he had known.
   The other side
   By contrast, I've witnessed other parents and children in the outdoors and, on occasion, seen the darker side of this interplay. I imagine this has sad results on the memories and lives of the children involved.
   I've learned that the most joyous outdoors experience imaginable could be spoiled by an unnecessary harsh word from an impatient parent with unrealistic expectations.
   I won't presume to give advice on overall parenting. But I might lend insight into how children ultimately perceive their outdoor experiences. The memories can be forever tainted by a parent's lack of perspective. There is a right way to foster appreciation of the outdoors in children. And this begins with a clear understanding of the goal. Children don't measure fun by the fish or game count. Their fascination is wider than that.
   Success starts with lowering, or at least altering, your expectations of the experience.
   My father did it right. And so does the father in this story.
   The right and wrong way
   Dad knew how to relax and suspend his impatient nature when it counted most. It's a blessing when a child's focus on the task at hand makes them quickly master a skill or at least receptive to instruction.
   But that's not always the case.
   Revealing our disappointment can ruin the experience and sour the child on the prospect of future trips.
   It's important that parental expectations be open-ended. Safe and leisurely pleasure is the goal, the only objective if you ask me. The concept of "fishing hard" should not enter the equation.
   Brad Lomax, the father in this story, seemed intent on making this birthday trip for his 12-year-old son, Richard, void of stress. Lomax would leave the safety talk, fishing instructions and gentle coaxing to Clay Wernli, a fellow parent and competent guide, who balances well the roles of captain, companion and teacher.
   The first thing Lomax did right was allow Richard to invite 11-year-old Matt Crow. As much as parents would like to believe children crave their company, an adult rarely can compete with the camaraderie of a classmate. The presence of a peer puts children at ease, wards off boredom and diffuses anxiety.
   For the children
   The day belonged to the boys.
   The sun hadn't breached the cloud-laced horizon when we left Land & Sea Marina under the JFK Causeway. This would mark my third attempt to fish the wells of Corpus Christi Bay. Each outing had been foiled by harsh winds.
   But relative calm greeted us as we headed north to locate a shrimp boat named Wide Load. We wanted bait and shrimper Jeff Kratz would be our connection.
   It's fairly common for guides to purchase bait, particularly croaker, on the water. Usually, no money is exchanged at the time. A bait shop affiliated with the particular shrimper handles the bookkeeping.
   Kratz, a friendly man with a fascination for everything aquatic, asked if the boys wanted to come aboard. Dolphins swirled in the waters around us.
   Lomax didn't hesitate.
   "Sure, go ahead," he told the boys, who were eagerly awaiting his decision. "Just be careful and do what the man says."
   Lomax allowed the innocent scene to play out. Not once did he say "That's enough boys, we came out here to go fishing." Nor did Lomax look at his watch impatiently.
   We left when the novelty wore thin.
   Laid-back kind of day
   At the first oil platform, Lomax continued to let the boys have fun without interference or expectations. Things might have been different had we been surfing, an activity Lomax knows better than fishing.
   But still, I was struck by the relaxed tone of the day. The mood differed sharply with other family fishing scenarios I've witnessed, where fathers seethe with exasperation when a child makes an errant cast or - God forbid - misses a fish or two.
   "Nice cast, Richard," was the most common comment made by Lomax. Only laughter and good-natured jabs followed the inevitable miscues of childhood fishing.
   And along the way, Lomax allowed Wernli to do his job, which admittedly lightened Lomax's load and probably his mood. But there's no reason a parent couldn't maintain the same good humor without a guide's help.
   Even though the fishing pace was not particularly snappy, Wernli kept things interesting by changing locations often, pulling anchor when he sensed boredom mounting.
   Another trick Wernli uses to keep things moving is to whistle like a bobwhite from time to time. Apparently, this produced luck for Wernli more than once long ago. Though it didn't prompt a bite for us, his whistles did buy Wernli a few extra moments of focus from the boys.
   They expected a bite. And that was enough to pique interest.
   Wernli also let the boys know when a move was near by telling them the next 60 seconds was a "golden minute." This seemed to refocus the kids' attention on fishing as well.
   Wernli says he's not superstitious. You decide.
   When midday rolled around and the fishing slowed, Lomax remained laid back in the face of child's play. As long as the shenanigans were safe, Lomax just smiled, allowing Richard and Matt to be themselves, to be boys.
   This attitude continued during the inevitable period when bait became the boys' center of attention. Especially with live bait, children on fishing trips want to fiddle with it. Usually, Dad steps in and the desire is unfulfilled.
   But not this time.
   Richard and Matt went a step farther with their bait play, assigning personalities and voices to dead croaker they scooped from the livewell.
   If ever there was an opportunity for a fuddy-duddy dad to put his foot down, this was it. But Lomax, understanding the game was harmless and placing it in proper perspective, opened a soda, rolled his eyes, shook his head and said nothing.
   Don't get me wrong. Richard and Matt were not a couple of unruly and undisciplined children run amuck. They remained focused on fishing for a reasonable period of time under the circumstances.
   When the boys scooped from the bay a ctenophore or comb jelly - those clear jelly globules that suspend in the water - their actions evoked only a mild reaction from Dad.
   And when that game ended, it was time to count the fish we had caught. This, of course, is simply an excuse to commune with slim. In a child's mind, a day of fishing isn't complete unless you reek of fish. It's universal.
   Still, the unflappable Lomax remained coolly entertained, at least until one of the cold stiff trout slipped off the deck and into the bay. But even then, Lomax calmly scooped it up and replaced it in the ice chest without scolding.
   I can only imagine how many fathers might have bristled in this situation; and how many memories could have been sullied.