This is one school that I flunked hands down. I don’t know why but fishing always seemed boring to me. My dad could never get me to enjoy it. As a young boy, there was too much patience involved. It seemed that we could never get a fish bite even though we got plenty of mosquito bites. Maybe that’s what I always attach to my fishing memories.
My dad used worms almost exclusively even though some of my later boys club kids would opt out of worms for peanut butter or cheese as a somewhat better form of bait for them. Maybe if I had been taught that my fishing experiences would have been better?
In those days in the 1950’s our rowboat was wood over that of metal. Getting a splinter or two was an occupational hazard on fishing excursions into Big Bass Lake. My dad also preferred rowing to motors even though my uncle had stored a motor at te farm. So between worms and splinters my fishing days were numbered.
In my boys club years the kids fished while I still avoided that pastime like the plague. So my mark in Fishing School 101 was a big fat F.