All Grandpas Fish
Jon Coley
This book is the best lie I have ever told.
With that in mind, it is dedicated to my loving wife, Nila, whom I’ve never lied to.
I promise.
Prologue
In which Mary has a delicious breakfast and asks an important question.
Mary’s uncle was visiting, which was rather exciting because he lived out of town. Mary’s father and he were determined to make the most of his visit. Grandpa Tom even came over to the house to stay for the week. They had all kinds of plans. Some things, like the ball game and the trip to the museum, involved her. Some of their plans, like going out to dinner together, involved the whole family. But there was one activity that was just for her uncle and her dad. They were going fishing.
Her dad had taken her fishing before, and she enjoyed it too. But this fishing trip was exclusive. It was something special for the two of them; something they grew up doing together. This was a get up at five in the morning and come home after dark kind of event. The plan was for Grandpa Tom to stay with her all day because Mom had to work. Mary was truly looking forward to spending the day with her grandfather, but a question began gnawing at the back of her mind. Why didn’t Grandpa Tom go fishing with them? It didn’t make sense.
Grandpa Tom wasn’t a feeble old man at all. He wasn’t too fat, nor was he too skinny. He was a healthy elderly gentleman with a love for the great outdoors. This was an avid hiker and nature lover. Mary herself saw him chopping firewood before, sometimes splitting a log with one mighty swing of his axe. It seemed to her that he would make an excellent fisherman. Strangely enough, however, there were no stories shared by her father or her uncle about him taking them on fishing trips. And they had many fish tales between the two of them.
The morning of the fishing trip, Mary overslept. It was wonderful not to have to set an alarm. Her mom left for work before eight o’clock. Grandpa Tom let Mary get her rest. This was a rare treat. She slept until almost nine thirty! When she ventured from her bedroom, Grandpa Tom looked up from his morning news, which was now on his electronic tablet, and said, “Good morning, sleepy head.”
“Good morning,” Mary said with a yawn.
“Are you ready for some breakfast?”
Mary grinned. Her grandfather’s cooking wasn’t to be missed, especially breakfast. “That sounds really good,” she said.
“Well,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’m going to need some help. Pancakes, bacon and eggs won’t fix themselves. Would you like some coffee too?”
Her mom and dad thought she was too young for coffee, but her grandfather didn’t care. He grew up drinking coffee. Plus everyone in the family agreed that he made the best coffee, no matter how you took it, black or with cream and sugar.
“If you crack the eggs, I’ll start the bacon,” Grandpa said, “There’s no need to start your day with one of the hard lessons learned from cooking bacon in your pajamas.”
Mary pondered this for a moment, but got over it and retrieved the egg carton from the refrigerator. While cracking the eggs and letting the insides slither and slop into the bowl, she finally worked up her courage.
“Grandpa, why don’t you ever go fishing? I mean, all grandpas fish, right?”
Grandpa Tom stopped for a moment and stood back from the popping bacon. He seemed to be lost in thought.
“I had to give it up years ago.”
“Why?” Mary whispered.
“That’s a bit of a long story, I’m afraid. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Tell you what, let’s finish up with breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”
That was fine by Mary. She was very hungry, and the house was already smelling so fabulous. So the two of them labored over the stove together. Then they sat down to a wonderful breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, coffee, and jelly biscuits. After breakfast was over, Grandpa poured them each another cup of coffee and said, “Let’s go into the living room and I’ll tell you the story.”
Chapter One
In which Grandpa Tom goes back in time.
A long time ago, back when I was a young man, before your dad and uncle were born, before I even met your grandmother, I was an avid fisherman. I preferred fishing from my little wooden boat, as opposed to fishing off the bank. I called her the USS Kansas; made her myself, you know. I named her Kansas because of the state’s vast cornfields blowing in the wind, which always reminded me of the sea. It’s better to fish from a boat if you have the option. That way you can find the secret spots, the ones that are just for you.
I was on my way to one of those secret spots the last time I ever went fishing. My boat drifted down the stream nice and easy. Dawn was breaking, and beautiful sunlight flowed onto the lazy water. I was just about to bait my hook when it happened. I can still see it, just like it was yesterday. One doesn’t forget something like that easily.
You see, I definitely should have checked the weather report that day, but I was just too excited to go fishing. The weather man would have warned me for sure. They were right sometimes, even back then. A tornado caught me completely unaware. Suddenly I was swept up in a mighty vortex. The storm plucked everything and my little boat directly from the river. All I could do is flop down flat on my belly and hold on to the sides of my precious USS Kansas for dear life.
After a few minutes, I felt something licking my face. When I looked up, a little Cairn Terrier was staring right at me. He barked at me and licked my face again.
“Excuse me sir,” a voice called out over the whirlwind, “I’m sorry to bother you, but my dog seems to have boarded your boat.”
I flipped over, lying flat on my back. To my total surprise I realized that a little farm house had bumped into my boat and a young girl with pigtails was at the doorway holding onto an interior wall with one hand and reaching out for her little dog with the other. Well, I’m not the kind of guy to keep a kid away from her dog, so I sat up and threw her pet back up to her. She caught the little creature easily enough. It was rather impressive.
“Thank you sir!” she shouted, “That’s a very nice boat you have. What’s her name?”
I was flabbergasted that she seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation, but saw no reason not to answer her. I raised my voice to yell above the howling winds.
“She’s the USS Kansas!” I shouted.
The young girl nodded politely. Suddenly a rude voice shrieked, “OUT OF MY WAY!” A crazy old lady on a bicycle came out of nowhere and hit my boat head on, knocking it away from the horrified girl and her farm house, so she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The crazy old lady jumped off her bicycle and grabbed a broom that was floating by in the melee. She had obviously lost her mind, because she seemed to think the broom was some kind of a horse. After mounting the household cleaning tool, she began laughing maniacally. Poor thing, highly stressful situations have been known to make people lose their minds.
Things had gotten too intense for me, so I flopped back over on my belly and put my hands over my head, just like I had been taught in school. Teachers are very specific about these situations. You’re on fire? Stop, Drop, and roll. There’s a nuclear explosion? Climb under the desk. A tornado is coming? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your tail goodbye. I guess it payed off too, because a few minutes later, the wind stopped. Of course, this meant I was falling. In fact, I was plummeting to the earth at terminal velocity in my little wooden boat. A few seconds later, I splash landed in a great big lake that I’d never seen before. When I looked up, I saw a rainbow appearing over the horizon.
I never saw that poor little girl with the dog or the crazy old lady again. It was like they just disappeared or flew over the rainbow.
