Fishing Interview

I’m going to be interviewed today about fishing. Finally hit the big time!

Well, it is not a national inteview. It’s not even a regional interview. But it is an interview and it is about fishing.

They gave me a preview of the potential questions, either so I don’t stumble, or so when I do they can claim he knew these questions before the interview:

  1. How and why did you start fishing?
  2. What are some of the different bodies of water you’ve fished on? Have you fished on lakes? On the sea?
  3. Were you on one of these bodies of water and a bad storm came upon you?
  4. What’s it like to be out there on the water? What’s the satisfaction you get from being on the water?
  5. Were there times when you made mistakes fishing?
  6. Were there times when you didn’t catch any fish?
  7. What lessons have you learned from #5 and #6? Maybe you tell us about the famous story, about the kids and not catching any fish.
  8. How has being a fisherman prepared you in your Christian experience or do you see parallels?

The first couple were easy. We all know the answers we would give to those. Then the big ones hit. First, I have to admit to making mistakes. In front of people!

Then you want me to tell you the lessons from those experiences. Even tougher.

And finally, I need to tie it into my faith walk. Again, in front of people.

It won’t be taped. It won’t be on TV. You have to come to church and see it in person.

2 Comments on “Fishing Interview

  1. Sorry I missed your performance at church this morning. I am sure the Lord smiled. As a kid, I had many wonderful experiences with my dad. He was truly the consummate fisherman. At around age 12, he took the family tent camping and fishing on the US side of Thousand Islands. While mother and sis remained at the tent, dad and I took the little 12′ boat several miles upriver. A severe storm erupted without warning, winds increased to about 50 MPH. Dad started the motor and proceeded toward the camp ground. About half a mile away, the swells reached 2′ – 3′ above the bow. We would travel a yard ahead, and it blew us backward a foot. We made it just as the motor quit. We were very lucky to survive.
    Many years later, dad, my brother and I used the same boat while hunting ducks on the Susquehanna near Hbg. Int. Airport. It was a very cold December day. Weeks before, dad positioned a large duck blind during low water and weighed it down by placing about eight 20 lb.cement blocks on the blind floor. It was the last day of duck season and nothing was flying. Around noon, we decided to dissassemble the blind and take it home until the following year. I sat up front, dad ran the motor while my brother got inside the blind and handed the cement blocks to dad. He sat the blocks directly in front of his seat. At about the fifth block, I heard dad holler, “get all the way up front, water is coming in”. In fact, water was gushing over the transom and the boat quickly sank. Fortunately, we were in about 5′ of icy water. Unfortunately, the boat was sunk on the river bottom. First, we dove under water, and removed the blocks from the boat. Then, with much effort and after 3 tries, we brought the boat up on its side by hand, and it did float. Carefully we got in the boat and manuvered it about 200 yds. to an island. The motor would not start, and we were nearing hypothermia. No other boats were on the water to assist. We found a small cabin on the island, and dad knew the owner. He broke the lock (later replaced it) and got a fire started in the wood burning stove. Within a few minutes, a fellow approached in his boat; he was checking muskrat traps. He agreed to take dad to the dock, where dad drove his car to grandpa’s house, and got another boat. By the time dad returned to the island, my brother and I were reasonably dry and to our surprise, the old boat motor did start. We were lucky to escape alive, but I will never forget standing up to my chin in 5′ of water. This is not a fishing story, but it is true. Now, I can tell ya about the times we went fishing and caught nothing. . . . but then, who can’t?


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