Ask 100 individuals who work in the recreational fishing industry how they feel about the winter fishing shows and you’re bound to get nearly as many unique opinions. As a wily veteran of ‘show season’ dating back to 2005 when I was invited by former editor, Zach Harvey, to help cover the booth at the RISAA Show for this magazine, I can tell you I’ve seen all sides of it. I’ve been yelled at, I’ve made friends, I’ve caught COVID (twice) and I’ve spent many thousands of dollars that I really didn’t need to spend. I may be older and wiser, but I’m still not immune to a classic plug, a slick new design or a deal that’s just too good to pass up.
While some might tell you that show season is a grind, or that it’s exhausting… I consider myself a ‘people person’ and I actually really enjoy them. I also feel deeply thankful that so many readers have accepted me as an authority on a wide range of fishing subjects. My favorite moments are those times when someone will come to me during a quiet stretch and really dig in on a plug building question, casting swimbaits for largemouth or dissecting some new striper spot. That level of trust and comfort is something I take as a true compliment and I really do relish those moments, because I so often walk away from those encounters having learned something new as well.
After 21 years of doing this parade of shows along the Northeast Coast, sometimes feeling like I’m just stepping back into my same footprints year upon year, almost by accident, I’ve come to realize that I’ve made a lot friends through my work in this industry. And it runs the gamut, guys like Al Clay from Rhode Island who I met at least 15 years ago and now he feels like a relative, connected by our love of the surf. Or a guy like Jim Jewkes, who showed me the ultimate gesture of compassion when my dad was sick in the hospital, making blood donations in his name. Or John Foti; we connected over the fact that my wife loves Converse shoes, a company he recently retired from, and now he knows my wife’s and daughter’s names and we spend more time talking about life and family than we do about fishing. Or someone like Jonathan Cabrera who always has a deep striper fishing question to chew on and we have a great time hashing it out. Or someone like the perennial Nick Ciciero of Tsunami Tackle who might be one of the only people I know that cares more about passing along the history of plugging than I do. And I could go on for an entire article listing names and connections… but it goes even deeper than that.
I saw a guy at one of the shows this year, who I’ve seen every year, I don’t know his name, as we’ve never had a conversation that went beyond filling out his subscription blank. When I saw him this year, he was in a wheelchair, being pushed by his daughter. Age catching up with another perennial fixture in the road I travel once every year. That image gripped me in an unexpected way. Finding myself in the middle of the road of life, no longer the young “kid”, and seeing this nameless figure being knocked down by the great revelator. This is a man who loves fishing, just like I do and he’s just as good of a mirror as anyone in our community.
And that’s what we are; a community and a community is worth nurturing and protecting. It’s worth the warmth of a handshake or the nod across the aisle. The unique thing about being part of this kind of community is that, even if you’re the quiet, anonymous type, you already have something in common with every person you pass on the beach, at the marina or perusing a winter show. It’s a starter for a conversation that might never truly end. I’m living proof of that at least a hundred times over.
And if I’m lucky enough to see the man in the wheelchair next winter, I’m taking it as a sign that he and I need to talk.
