A lot of time last week was spent fishing - trolling for walleye and northern pike, bobber fishing for large-mouth bass and blue gill, or any other kind of fishing you could imagine. The clear lake waters are full of fish, and if you cast into an area full of shady lily pads or reeds, it doesn't take long before your bobber goes beneath the water. It's a peaceful place - the lake is calm, the loons are calling, and the fish are biting.
Ida Lake at Sunset
My Grandpa loved to fish. He and my Grandma would go up to Michigan at least once a year and spend a week fishing, and he would go around to other lakes in central Indiana and fish with my dad and my uncles. His garage was full of fishing poles, tackle, and signs boasting about being the best fisherman (or how the best fisherman are also the best liars). When I think of fishing or boating, I think of Grandpa.
Grandpa in his boat
It's funny how even though this was my first time in Minnesota, I spent a lot of time dwelling on past memories that didn't even take place in Minnesota. Mitchell teaching me how to cast sent me right back to standing in Grandma and Grandpa's backyard, clutching a kid-size fishing pole. Grandpa stood behind me, his hands on mine, telling me how to reel in, press the button, and release halfway through the cast. I wasn't very good at it then (I can happily tell you, though, that I was much improved at casting last week), but it's one of my favorite memories with Grandpa.
Catching a 14" large-mouth bass and holding it high for the camera sent me back to standing on Grandma and Grandpa's couch in their living room, reaching for the mounted bass on their wall, fingertips brushing lacquered scales and open mouths. Grandpa was so proud of those fish that he and Grandma caught in Michigan, and I can't remember a time when they weren't displayed on their wall.
My 14" large-mouth bass (and no, I didn't get it mounted)
Every text I sent my parents about fishing last week - from the fish I caught to the purple pole I bought - was responded back with how Grandpa would be proud and how he surely was smiling at me. He told Josh and I when he was teaching us how to cast that he'd take us fishing when we were older. He never got the chance to do that.
Grandpa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's when I was in 7th grade. When his memory failed, he could no longer take us fishing, or load up the aluminum boat and head to Michigan for the week with Grandma. Fishing poles stood unused in the garage, tackle never came out of their boxes. No other fish were mounted on their walls with pride. Alzheimer's didn't just take his voice and his memories, it took away one of his most favorite pastimes in the world.
I enjoyed Minnesota, and love the lakes and want to go back next summer. It also made me realize just how much I wish I could have gotten the chance to fish with Grandpa, and pose with a catch with him. I know he'd be proud of me, though, even if he's no longer around to tell me so. I fish for him, and I fight Alzheimer's for him. And I miss him every day.
