A Fishing tribute to my mom

It seems like everything I have read this week was a tribute to someone’s mom. The Fisherman’s editorial this week was one, along with a couple other pieces I have read. I’m not writing this to be with the “in crowd”. After reading these essays, it got me thinking about my mother and our time fishing…so I write.

As many of you may know, my mother died when I just turned seventeen. She died on her birthday the summer between my junior and senior year of high school. Without question my mother was my best friend. I was without a doubt a mama’s boy. In February, the year that she passed she had a heart attack. That whole spring while she was recovering (so we thought) we’d spend hours talking about the Red Sox. Since she was stuck in the house, this was our main common interest.

Before that difficult year we shared a lot of great memories outdoors. Many nights we would go for a ride in the 1978 Suburban and look for animals around dusk. We’d drive by the farms in North Attleboro, Plainville and Cumberland. Rarely did we see any; occasionally we’d see a skunk. More often than not, we would just see the cows and horses. Looking back on it, the animals were not important. What was important was the bonding time between mother and son.

Although I wonder about the Nature vs. Nurture argument, there can be no doubt that my mom loved the outdoors and fishing. Whether I was destined to love fishing or it was ingrained in me by my mom, I am not sure. I do know we spent many days together fishing.

She took me fishing from the time I could hold a fishing pole. I caught my first fish at age three at a spot guaranteed to give up some sunfish.

One story she told me that I do not remember, but must have taught me a lifelong lesson was: When I was very young, we went fishing and my mom started catching fish. I got jealous and started being a little brat. My mom wanted me to know what it was like to lose so she continued catching tons of fish. Considering I don’t remember this, I must have been young and probably could not cast very well. After I whined about it, I don’t know if I took a slap to the ass ( yes I grew up with the occasional spanking and I don’t wake up with nightmares about my childhood) or if she let me cry myself to sleep. I do know ever since, I have learned not to be a sore loser. Lesson learned mom.

My mom used a cheap baitcasting reel without a levelwind. She said it was what she grew up using. My mom’s idea of fishing was to sit on a shoreline drowning worms on the bottom. She could patiently sit for hours and if she didn’t get anything it was okay. She was quite content with this style of fishing (she would have made an excellent carp fishermen, because we spend a lot of time waiting for that one fish).

This is the one thing that I would have disagreed with my mom about. Although I am okay with the occasional skunking, I try to do everything in my power to find them and catch them. I always want to catch new species or learn new techniques. It’s quite clear there is a line between loving fishing (mom) and being obsessed with it (me). She also had two sons to raise and a husband to cook supper for. So obviously fishing was a hobby not a priority.

I often wonder how much fun we would have had fishing after I got older. She would be 68 if she were alive today. In the 20 years since her passing what could we have accomplished together? She never caught a fish on a lure. When she went saltwater fishing, she used sea worms on the bottom. In her life she caught two trout.

It would have been awesome to be the teacher and repay her for all the time I was the student. I would have loved to show her how to catch stripers. It would have been amazing to photograph my five foot tall mother holding a twenty pound carp. I would have gotten so much enjoyment watching her catch new species or learn new ways to catch them. She would have liked it too.

The last couple years of fishing together we started using shiners for bass. Before that I am not kidding…worms on the bottom. We had some success. One summer after I started using lures, we were at Herring Pond in Bourne. There were pickerel in the shrubs along the shoreline. I caught a couple on topwater lures and I told my mom to try. She kept casting the lure near the shrubs but the pickerel wouldn’t touch it. She’d give me my rod back and I’d catch one. This went on for an hour, she couldn’t get one and as soon as I’d get my rod back I would catch one. It was like she was jinxed that day. By the end we were both laughing so hard, we almost peed ourselves.  Although it makes for a funny story it does have a lesson. She was open to catching fish in other ways she just needed someone to show her. I wish I would have gotten the chance.

She was a great mom and was taken from her husband and two sons much too early. However I was very fortunate to have known her for seventeen years. Because of her, I am completely an outdoors person. She taught me valuable life lessons. She answered all my questions and we had some great conversations. Although she had more sicknesses than anyone I ever met, she never complained. She was the toughest person I ever knew. Conversely, if I sniffled in the middle of the night, she would worry herself silly that I might be coming down with something.  She was a kinder friendlier person than I am, although I inherited my loner attitude from her.  Where ever you are, Happy Mother’s Day mom, I love you.

Proud to be an American, prouder to be Mary Pacelli’s son

Nick