It was nice fishing with dad again

Local columnist

link Kitsana Dounglomchan

There are three reasons I will wake up before the sun rises: there’s a fire in the house, I have to work, or I’m going fishing. I like the last reason the best.

So it was with great anticipation that I awoke in the wee hours of the morning on Wednesday to go fishing with my dad in the San Francisco Bay.

But this almost didn’t happen. Our relationship had broken down and was in need of repairs, like a vacant home in a once-vibrant neighborhood.

Instead of visiting in person, we now only spoke on the phone, where Dad often dominated the conversation.

And to exacerbate things, instead of visiting with his family in the United States, he now took long vacations to see his distant family in Thailand.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him before I left for India. Why put myself out there if he’s not willing to do the same?

But after much consternation, I called and told him what had been bothering me. He apologized for neglecting our relationship.

I apologized, too. I could have been honest with him earlier, but instead I ignored the issue and didn’t return his phone calls for a time. And you can’t be upset with someone if you aren’t going to tell them why.

We agreed to put this behind us and move on. We kept talking and decided to take a fishing trip to the Bay Area. What talking won’t cure, fishing will.

There were 11 people on the boat when we arrived that morning, the other clientele comprised of fathers and their adolescent sons.

Twenty years ago, the first time we went fishing, Dad and I were the youngest on board. Now we were the oldest.

The boat launched as the sun was rising, the skipper navigating to the middle of the bay.

The scenery was magnificent, the skyscrapers of San Francisco flanking our left and the pillars of the Golden Gate on our right.

We made it to the fishing grounds and dropped our lines in the water. The morning passed by quietly, neither of us hooking a fish. Then around noon, I tipped my hat over my eyes and took a siesta.

Five minutes later, Dad yelled he had a fish on the line. After a short struggle, he reeled in an 8-pound striped bass.

I realized combat and fishing are similar in that both are filled with long periods of boredom and rapid bursts of exhilaration.

The rest of the day picked up nicely, but Dad won bragging rights in the end. He caught five fish; I caught three, but more importantly we’d spent time together. Sometimes I think that’s enough.

Maybe this is where I should exhort you to reach out to an estranged family member, but I’m not going to. Your life might be better off without them.

I can only make decisions for myself, and I’m happy to say I swallowed my pride and reached out to my dad. It sure was nice fishing with him again.

Kitsana Dounglomchan, a 12-year Air Force veteran, writes about his life and times for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]