It is hard to believe I have a place on the lake and don’t fish. There are 50 million fishermen in America and I’m not one of them. I suppose the reasons are No. 1, I have ADD and it drives me crazy to sit still for any length of time; No. 2, I have no patience — closely related to No. 1; and No. 3, my father didn’t fish. His recreation time was spent on a golf course and I followed in his footsteps. Instead of giving me a bamboo rod with a bobber, I was handed an old 7 iron and some beat up Titleists. 

It doesn’t mean I didn’t try. Years ago, I made a concerted effort to become an angler.  Mike, one of my best high school friends, fished regularly; he even caught a 5-pound bass in his neighborhood lake. Eventually, his stories extolling the wonderful world of angling temporarily brought me to the dark side. I saved my money until I could afford the basics, a cheap rod and reel, a small metal tackle box, hooks, sinkers, some plastic worms, and a couple of lures. It was time for me to show these fish who was boss.Â