My First Story Of The New Year

[reevesr1]

Told a bit of this on the memorable trips of 2007 post, but here as Paul Harvey says is the rest of the story:

 

I don't know exactly when my father got his first cell phone, but I would guess in 2000 or so. Guess he figured he should join the 21st century. Like many of his generation, I think he was a little afraid of it. He would leave it off most of the time to limit useage and it must have taken him 6 months to figure out how to set up voice mail and check messages. I might be exaggerating, but just a bit.

 

What I remember most about my dad and the cell was him calling me during fishing trips. He always called when he knew I was fishing. Now, almost all of my fishing was wading flats and reefs, and I almost never took my cell into the water because saltwater and cellphones are a poor combination, as I have learned much to my chagrin too many times in the past. So when I came back to the boat from a wade and picked up the phone there were always a number of missed calls and at least one voice message, almost always exactly like this:

 

Hey Rick, this is Richard, your father. Just calling to see how you're doing. Give me a call when you get a chance. Thank you. Goodbye.

 

He always would identify himself as "Richard, your father". Like I wouldn't be able to identify him by if he just called himself Richard. Or my father. Or just by his voice. I found that hysterical for some reason. And he always said Thank You at the end. I found it all very formal.

 

It was his way of living a bit vicariously through us (he always called my brothers as well) while he was working. The phone calls almost always came from the shrimp boat because if he wasn't working, he would be fishing with you. The calls themselves were pretty routine: How many, how big, where, using what; you all know, just standard fishing conversation. He would give advice on where to go, or what to try next if you weren't doing any good and wish you luck. I came to count on and look forward to the calls, especially when I was doing well. One thing I have learned is that a son never tires of bragging a bit to his dad.

 

When he was dying, I realized that not only was I not going to get to fish with him again, he was not ever going to call me when I was fishing again. I told my wife how much I was going to miss those calls, and how hard my next fishing trip would be. So on my first fishing trip after he died, my wife called me at about 8 am to ask me how the fishing was going. I will never forget her doing that. It would be difficult to describe how much that meant to me.

 

I'm not going to say I miss the calls more than fishing with him because that wouldn't be true. I miss fishing with him more. But not by much I don't think. I want to call him after every trip, and I probably always will.

[bulltrout]

i'm sorry to hear about your loss rick...but you shouldn't want to call him after every trip because he already knows about all the details...he'll be there with you for every trip, sitting and smiling on that rock behind you...

[SteveM]

Told a bit of this on the memorable trips of 2007 post, but here as Paul Harvey says is the rest of the story:

 

I don't know exactly when my father got his first cell phone, but I would guess in 2000 or so. Guess he figured he should join the 21st century. Like many of his generation, I think he was a little afraid of it. He would leave it off most of the time to limit useage and it must have taken him 6 months to figure out how to set up voice mail and check messages. I might be exaggerating, but just a bit.

 

What I remember most about my dad and the cell was him calling me during fishing trips. He always called when he knew I was fishing. Now, almost all of my fishing was wading flats and reefs, and I almost never took my cell into the water because saltwater and cellphones are a poor combination, as I have learned much to my chagrin too many times in the past. So when I came back to the boat from a wade and picked up the phone there were always a number of missed calls and at least one voice message, almost always exactly like this:

 

Hey Rick, this is Richard, your father. Just calling to see how you're doing. Give me a call when you get a chance. Thank you. Goodbye.

 

He always would identify himself as "Richard, your father". Like I wouldn't be able to identify him by if he just called himself Richard. Or my father. Or just by his voice. I found that hysterical for some reason. And he always said Thank You at the end. I found it all very formal.

 

It was his way of living a bit vicariously through us (he always called my brothers as well) while he was working. The phone calls almost always came from the shrimp boat because if he wasn't working, he would be fishing with you. The calls themselves were pretty routine: How many, how big, where, using what; you all know, just standard fishing conversation. He would give advice on where to go, or what to try next if you weren't doing any good and wish you luck. I came to count on and look forward to the calls, especially when I was doing well. One thing I have learned is that a son never tires of bragging a bit to his dad.

 

When he was dying, I realized that not only was I not going to get to fish with him again, he was not ever going to call me when I was fishing again. I told my wife how much I was going to miss those calls, and how hard my next fishing trip would be. So on my first fishing trip after he died, my wife called me at about 8 am to ask me how the fishing was going. I will never forget her doing that. It would be difficult to describe how much that meant to me.

 

I'm not going to say I miss the calls more than fishing with him because that wouldn't be true. I miss fishing with him more. But not by much I don't think. I want to call him after every trip, and I probably always will.

 

Cripes, Rick, ya brought a tear to my eye with this story. I read the condensed version in the

other thread & teared up a little; read this one, & danged if it didn't get me again!

Hope you're real nice to that woman of yourn!

She sounds like a keeper, brother.

Thanks for the story; keep'em coming.

Later,

Steve

[toolman]

Starting the new year in fine form Rick. Thanks.

[ladystrange]

sweet story. reminds me of my mom's ex (my sort of step dad). he is the one who taught me how to fly fish and i never really appreciated how much i learned from him. they broke up soon after i moved out of the house. i still kept in touch more so as i got older and less teenager stupid.

 

the day i caught my first fish on the fly, a little grayling in quarry lake 4 years ago, i called him. he was really excited for me and we talked fishing and how we would get out. he lived in vancouver and i was here. he was planning on coming out the following summer to stay with his sister and do some fishing. he made it out the next summer but was only in town for a day, but promised the next summer he was coming back for a month. sadly, he had a stroke that fall and passed away a month later.

 

i still think about him when i am on the river. every glass of scotch, every fish and every cigar is toasted in his memory.

[reevesr1]

LS,

Very nice story. Thanks.

For all you young, and not so young fathers, and mothers out there..

This is why you fish, ski, hunt, whatever you need to do to with your kids. It's incredibly important, especially when they are teenager stupid!

 

DBT, Thanks for that, but no way he'd be sitting on the rock watching. He's always working his way upstream ahead of me looking for more fish wondering why he never tried out this fly fishing game! (I've agreed with you once already this year. That was my quota.)

 

Rev. Bob,

She is a keeper.

[birchy]

Geez man.. I went from laughing to crying in like .075 seconds!

[ladystrange]

Geez man.. I went from laughing to crying in like .075 seconds!

 

 

it's great when a story can do that.

 

rick you have a talent for writing

[hydropsyche]

I came to count on and look forward to the calls, especially when I was doing well. One thing I have learned is that a son never tires of bragging a bit to his dad.

 

Ain't that the truth. Actually, every angler never ties of bragging to anyone that will listen, but a dad is special.

 

My dad's been gone for over 10yrs but I still think of him almost every day. Your story really brought back some fond memories. Thanks.

[Gary]

Seemingly a small thing a call like that but the little things like that is what makes someone special. Sorry you had to lose that. Kudos to your wife for picking that up. Good story Rickr

[bigbowtrout]

Your Wife is a good Lady but I still don't blame her for not sharing her lava cake.

Great story Rick thanks

[OneMoreLastCast]

Thanks Rick....I had to try to convince the other people in the office that I somehow got something in both my eyes.

 

Great story though. I don't know if he said it to you much, but I'd say if he was like most "Dads", he bragged about you to his friends tenfold, compared to you bragging to him.

 

He sounds like a perfect example of how we all should try to make memories with our own kids, so they can tell stories to people about us after we're gone.

 

He'd definitely be proud, (and jealous), to see you now walking the banks with your pretty yellow fly rod in hand.

[reevesr1]

Seemingly a small thing a call like that but the little things like that is what makes someone special. Sorry you had to lose that. Kudos to your wife for picking that up. Good story Rickr

Gary,

I would never have told it had I not read your story about your friend. First off, it triggered the memory. But more than that showed me that sometimes it's ok to tell pretty personal stories as they can help others remember important people in their life.

 

Thanks to everyone for all the kind words.

 

Now, I have to go back to being sarcastic. Too much touchy-feely for one week.