Summary:
From the time I was a very young girl, my grandfather and my dad taught me everything I would need to know about fishing, crabbing and boating. Many things have changed since those early days, but my love of the sport remains the same. This is a memoir of my first experiences with fishing and how it grew to be an integral part of my life and one of my favorite hobbies!

Details or Sample:
Three Generations Casting and Sinking Lines in Search of Big Charlie

The pungent scent of his cigar carried me away on a whirlwind of possibilities. The soft whirring of the motor and the rhythmic lapping of the waves around us erased our cares and filled us with a sense of serenity and boundless freedom. The day´s fate rested in the palms of our hands and on the tips of our hooks, but we knew not what the bay had in store.

Seldom did the three of us venture past the bay´s threshold where it became one with the ocean´s choppy grip. But if no fish were biting, we would sometimes take our chances in deeper waters. Together we united as three generations in one tiny vessel, ready to share decades of advice and weathered tales of the one that got away, or as my grandfather likes to refer to him, Big Charlie. From the time I was a very young girl, my grandfather and my dad taught me everything about fishing, crabbing and boating that I would need to know for the rest of my life.

With the stogie hanging lopsided out of the corner of his mouth, the man pursed his lips and began to explain the routine to his young granddaughter - a task he very well could have performed in his sleep. As he had done many times before, my grandfather fastened a chicken neck to the hand line on which we hoped to catch a blue crab or two. A wooden basket by my feet awaited their arrival. As he tied the final knot in the thin white cord and lowered it into the depths of blue, he looked right into my eyes and commenced the day´s instruction.

When you want to check on the lines, you have to pull them up real slow, like this, he said. Then he gently hoisted the bait within visibility just below the surface, revealing an unsightly creature unbeknownst to me as a spider crab. Similar to the catfish found in many of North America´s freshwater lakes and streams, spider crabs and blue crabs feed from the bottom, thus why we attempted the hand lines.

Sporadically taking a swig of his Budweiser or a puff of his stogie, Dave D´Imperio, Sr. continued my lesson in crabbing. As his tanned skin glistened in the sun´s welcomed rays, he reveled in the moments we spend together out on my dad´s boat.

"When you pull the line up, if you see one on there, just turn to me and whisper, "Grandpop, get the net!´"

Eagerly, I awaited my first chance to alert him to a fresh catch. While my grandfather had been teaching me all about crabbing and fishing, my dad, Dave D´Imperio, Jr. lovingly guided his pride and joy - a 14´ Smokercraft fishing boat - to secret angling spots. My father and his dad explained to me that there were underground streams and "fishin´ holes´ that flowed throughout the bay just below us. If we were lucky, we could find ourselves amidst one of the best fishing holes on the southern Jersey coast.

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Written by: danceswithwords
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