A Fish Tale

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of going fishing. We would wake up at the ungodly hour of 4 AM. My mom would already have our lunches ready. The same fabulously exotic bag lunch. A welfare cheese sandwich and water, YUM. My dad had our fishing gear all set. Also very exotic, instead of the traditional fishing poles we used soda cans found in the empty lot next door. The night before the trip was spent bending those soda cans just right, you had to get the right angle in order to attach the fishing line so it wouldn't come off.

We had to take 2 trains to get from Brooklyn to Broad Channel, where we fished. This was the worse part of the whole adventure. As a kid I had motion sickness, (to this day I still can't read in a moving vehicle without feeling queasy) which meant that we had to get on/off the trains several times before reaching our destination, so I could hurl and regain my will to live. I hated that train ride but I loved fishing.

We would get to Broad Channel just as the sun was coming up. Broad Channel was a beach, used mostly for fishing not sunbathing. We would find our special rock area and set up camp. My dad and I would walk over to Smitty's Bait and Tackle. Smitty looked like your classic old fisherman, leathery sun burnt skin. He must have been hundreds of years old. That's how I remember him, but then again childhood memories are not always based on fact. His shop rented row boats and of course, sold bait and tackle. He was a sweet man, who knew all his customers by what bait they bought. He always gave us extra blood worms for free. Which he let me pick out, I loved him for that.

Back at our fishing spot, I always offered to help cut up the blood worms. It was a few years before my family realized that I wasn't doing this to be helpful. It was because I had discovered early on that the head of the bloodworm was the strongest and stayed on the hook the longest. So while everyone else ran out of bait, I still kept fishing, being the only family member to still have bait left.

We went to Broad Channel several times during the summer. Once Smitty asked my dad why we fished from the shore and never got a row boat. As my dad explained how getting to the shore was a financial feat (my parents didn't pay some bill, gave up lunch money or sold an organ). Smitty gave us a rowboat for free that day. Damn, I loved that ancient man.

Fishing on the ocean in a row boat was incredible, we were giddy with excitement. We also caught the most fish ever. Casting from the shore using a soda can fishing pole was a task which required specific precise skills. From the row boat you just dropped your line off the side and soon there was that tug, followed by pulling in your prize. We caught Porgies, eels, flounder and some really ugly angler type fish. ( that was the only fish we ever threw back).

Back at shore at the end of the day we cleaned our catch and sometimes cooked our fish right there. (obviously this was back when people didn't worry about fish having high doses of Mercury, or other horrible contaminates) Then came that damn train ride home. Despite how sick I got on the train, nothing diminished the wonder of my day spent at Broad Channel. (even as I begged my parents to put me out of my misery)

As an adult, I now understand the full extent of the sacrifice my parents made to expose me to new adventures despite our poverty. To this day the sight of an ocean brings me joy. The chance to go fishing fills me with excitement. (I can bait a hook and clean/fillet fish like no body's business) And alas the sight or sound of a train, makes me break out in a sweat.