“…from this day forward, for as long as you both shall live.”
Back in August of ’98 I wrote an article for The Fisherman called So, You Married a Fisherman. Twenty seven years later I am still married to said fisherman, and have since raised two more.
When Dave and I first started dating, my introduction to fishing came while watching in awe as giant tuna came to the Brielle Yacht Club dock. I would learn a lot about fishing from that first day, how fishermen get up at God awful hours to get to the fishing grounds, and how they keep worms in my refrigerator in bakery boxes, never to be mistaken for a brownie from the bakery down the street.
I also learned that setting up a kiddie pool with live herring in the basement laundry room with an aerator and PVC pipes shooting water through is a real thing, and it smells bad. When the wind blows, and their tuna trip gets canceled, I learned that they don’t think it’s funny when you blow at them making wind sounds while laughing.
Boats, Baits & Boys
My husband comes from a fishing family. His father “Mo” was a big fisherman, and he taught my husband to love and respect the ocean and all its treasures. It really is no surprise that my boys Nick and Max love the water and also love to fish. When they were little, we would bring them on the boat, so they could get their “sea legs.” They learned how to cast and jig, to bait a hook and unhook a fish. There was always some yelling, a family tradition I am told by friends who fished with Dave and his father growing up.
Every vacation or trip we took had some kind of fishing included. One year, we took the boys to Disney. Low and behold, Dave had packed these little rods and reels; sure enough the boys fish the ponds at Disney while waiting for the boat to come pick us up. I am not sure if people were amused or horrified as they swung largemouth bass over the rail into the crowd. I just distanced myself, so no one knew I was with them.
Their love of fishing grew through the years, riding bikes to the bay, a nearby pond and eventually, getting in their cars, loaded with gear to hit the beach, the jetty, or some dock on Long Beach Island. Always coming home with a good story, like getting thrown off the dock or some mean person who thought they were too young to know what they were doing. That is, until they out fished them.
We’ve had a boat since we were married. Started out as a small 17-foot skiff and over the years has changed a few times, currently a World Cat. When our son, Nick, got his captains license at 18, I was scared when he took the boat out. Over the years, he has become the bigger fishing addict then anyone in the family. He lives in Florida now, so when he is out on the water, I wait patiently for him to call to tell us how they did, more so I know he is back safe.
Our youngest son Max likes to freshwater fish as well, so Dave thought it would be a good idea to get a small boat. Imagine my reaction when I pulled in the driveway and saw another smaller boat on a trailer parked on the side of our house. Dave’s response to the look on my face was a casual comment he knew would make things okay, “Max likes to freshwater fish, we need a little boat so we can take it to lakes and reservoirs.” The “needing the little boat” became the needing a new motor, new seats, new floor, rewiring, you get my drift. Nothing beats the first launch with the bow mounted trolling motor they never used before and how Max tells it, “We just kept going in circles, Mom.” I laughed so hard.
I thought it was bad with just my husband being a fisherman with the amount of tackle, rods, reels, and oddities that appear and disappear from my outdoor freezer and refrigerator. At any given time, I can open those doors to grab food and find a hundred eyes staring back at me, or chum logs and boxes of squid. I cannot tell you the number of times I have opened the drink cooler on the boat only to find a flat of sandworms.
The No-Car Garage
You would think that since there are two sides to this building, that I could park my car there so that in the cold, wintery, snowy months I wouldn’t have to scrape the ice or snow off my car. No such luck! We all know that you need different rods and reels for different fish, 80s, 50s, spinning reels, bait casters, etc. These line our garage in rod racks, and along the walls. But seriously, how many do you need? They are everywhere!
Before we moved into our house, the rods where in the corner of our bedroom, the corner of the living room and had filled my laundry room. Currently, our garage houses multiple shelves full of Playmate coolers, each labeled with what tackle is in them for what kind of fishing. One item comes to mind, the feared Badonk-A-Donk popper. Our lab Raven was walking through the garage all excited to see her dad, her wagging tail knocking over some rods, one with the lure on it. Startled, Raven turned quickly and got hooked right in her nose. As she tried shaking that popper free, I held her calmly as Dave cut off the lure with a set of pliers, leaving the barb and a piece of the hook sticking through her nose. I called our vet, a big fisherman himself, and he knew exactly how to remove the barb from her nose.
We also had the ice fishing era as well. There was an ice fishing sled in the garage with the little poles and tip ups and an ice auger. All the salt and freshwater gear was not enough, the giant sled on snow ski’s packed with gear took my parking spot in the garage. Dave would pack the kids up and go to upstate New York, the first time when Max was 3 and Nick was 5. Cooking hot dogs out on the ice as they froze their little hands and faces, but they loved it.
And then I watch in amazement as the phone calls start at the beginning of the season. During the height of the season, I don’t think I get to finish a whole story with the exchanging of top-secret intel with friends and other charter boat captains. I laugh when I am in the car with him as he ends one of these top-secret calls, “Don’t repeat those numbers or that area.” Seriously? Who am I calling? Is there a hotline wives can call to give each other this information?
I watch the excitement when they talk about going out, discussing their strategy and what to bring; and most importantly, the rations. My favorite question when one of them is out fishing and I am the first one they talk to, “did they catch anything?” Sometimes I do not ask; the fact that they have returned safe is my highest priority. If they have a good day tuna fishing, a revolving door of friends and family who secured a loin come through. Sometimes it is me who picks up those zip lock bags to hand them off, because, well, that’s what wives of a fisherman do.
A Fishing Wife’s Life
Being a wife/mom of a fisherman can be hard. Like the time the boat Dave was on caught fire and sank 50 miles off the coast and he had to swim to the basket that the Coast Guard helicopter dropped down. Then there was the time I woke up on a Saturday morning to a message on our answering machine (remember those?) from the Coast Guard telling me to please call; when I reached them, they said that Dave’s EPIRB beacon went off and they were unable to raise him. I was scared. Fifteen minutes later they called to tell me they finally got hold of him; the beacon apparently went off on its own.
But I think the worst of all was the terrible storm that came out of nowhere while Dave and Nick were offshore. I had no idea until his friend called to ask if I had heard from him. I pulled up the weather app while stuck in traffic 80 miles from home. Dave finally called when he got in cell range, and said it was bad. The storm was directly over Barnegat Inlet, and they were considering heading to Manasquan if something did not change. The storm was raging by the time I got home, while Max was down at Barnegat Inlet dodging lightning and evaluating if the inlet looked navigable. I was at home, alone while I had two on the boat trying to get home and another trying not to get struck by lightning so he could convey the safety of the inlet.
About a half hour later the radar showed a small opening right at Barnegat Inlet, “like threading a needle” Dave said later. Scary moments are why I sometimes forget to ask if they caught anything. We laugh about these times now, but I know these moments are on their minds when out fishing. They know there’s a crazy lady home, waiting for some kind of contact. They oblige me most times, but when they forget, said “crazy lady” is something they’ll have to deal with at some point.
I don’t love to fish, but fishing competitively against Dave and the boys gives me immense pleasure, especially when I out fish them. They complain it’s not fair because they bait my hook and unhook the fish, which means they fish less. I have fished in the Florida Keys, Hawaii, Baja and up and down the East Coast. Every vacation, trip, or weekend there was and is always talk of fishing. And I have rules on our boat, especially for blowfish; keep them alive until you have enough to eat and whoever catches one must make a blowfish face while holding up their inflated blowfish.
Would I do it again? I love that my boys have a passion for something so amazing, a family trait hopefully passed on for generations. Time has gone on and the boys have grown into men, but our family dynamic remains. Our Philadelphia Fishing Show every winter is a family affair; we all work it, and we sit down together for meals as often as possible. Sometimes I sit and just listen as they talk about fishing and think, “I love that they share this passion.” Sometimes I may feel a little left out, but that’s okay; I just start talking about baseball, the boys’ other love, and then Dave feels left out too.
So, I married a fisherman, and I raised two more. Even though my car cannot fit in the garage, there is far too much bait in freezer, and I have to contend with the absolute worst, smelly, blood covered fish clothes in the wash, I would not trade it for the world. I would marry the fisherman and raise two more every time.
The author’s husband, Capt. Dave DeGennaro, runs Hi Flier Fishing Charters out of Waretown; the DeGennnaro/Belford clan also runs the Philadelphia Fishing Show from January 9-11, 2026 in Oaks, PA.
