I’ve always said life goes by three times faster when you have a kid. My daughter is 12 this year and her 6th grade graduation is next week. I think it’s all the milestones that pile up from first step to, well, 6th grade graduation; they just keep coming and whittling away the time in between. When I think of graduating, I think of high school and my mind runs back to a trip I took that year with my friends to Nantucket for a week of trying to figure out what it meant to be on the other side of school.
It was 1998 and surf fishing was very different, it was really good and kept VERY quiet. All my friends loved to fish, but I don’t think any of them loved it like I did at the time. We went out on a friend’s boat trolling for bluefish, it was slow and, honestly more of boat ride. Then we fished the surf, I’m pretty sure the beach we fished was called Surfside and I know we fished right behind Mr. Rogers’ summer house – so I guess that means I’ve been to Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood.
On the day of the Fourth of July, we woke up to my friend’s dad talking to a neighbor, apparently there had been a pretty hot bite in the surf the night before at a beach on another part of the island. This local guy, as I recall his name was George Nyron, was inviting the four of us to fish with him after midnight. I don’t think I can describe how excited I was, and the rest of the guys seemed fired up as well. But as the day wore on, their focus began shifting to other things, and they seemed put off by the idea of starting at midnight.
After grabbing dinner a burrito spot called Taco’s Tacos, we headed to the beach to watch the fireworks. These were some of the most insane pyrotechnics I’ve seen in my life and, it would seem that safety protocols were just… different back then. We sat so close that we were watching the team light the mortars and the booms were so loud and concussive that I remember saying, “I felt my hair move!” Boy did we have fun! Back at the house, I tried to lead by example, getting ready for the next stage of the night, but the other three just weren’t feeling it. Imagine, 18 years old and too tired!
I tried to hide my disappointment, but my friend’s dad read it on my face and offered to take me out there. There was not a single shred of the fabric of my personality that wanted to say no, but I felt like I was forcing his dad to take me so I choked on my words and told him not to worry about it. The lights went out and it wasn’t long before I was listening to all three of them sleeping while I lay awake, picturing the action I was missing on the beach. Somehow, I eventually managed to fall asleep.
We were sleeping in a finished “walk out” basement room, with two bunk beds and a full bathroom. Early the next morning that rear exterior door swung open and I could hear George and Josh’s dad talking excitedly. I lifted my head and they beckoned, calling me outside. George stood in the yard with two 40-inch class stripers and my heart sank. “Hope you boys slept well!” he said with a deep chuckle.
As it turned out, the bite had been a lot tougher that night, and George wondered out loud if the fireworks had possibly spooked them. But all I could think about was that I just needed one! Those stripers were the biggest ones I’d ever seen in person at the time, and as a rabid and obsessed fisherman, seeing those fish was a crystalizing moment, that cemented a goal that I would never relinquish.
On that fifth of July, with my whole life ahead of me, I felt those two lifeless stripers enter my bloodstream and they’ve been stemming that heart-driven tide, ever since.
Thank you George, for that “tough love” inspiration. And Happy Fourth of July to the rest of you!
