It's a warm July in 1989. I am the age of my son, 11. I'm sitting in a little aluminum boat powered by my grandpa's 1930 something Johnson 3 horse motor. My brother, Steve, who is 8 is in the middle of the boat and my grandpa is in the back of the boat guiding the adventure in his nightmarishly short blue shorts, an undershirt, tall tube socks with 2 blue stripes and a meshed- back truckers hat that was stiff and seated quite high on his mostly bald head... a very rare treat.
We had dropped anchor just off the drop off in the middle of Glen Lake. The day is rather cloudy and the waves are mild, but the water is still incredibly blue. We were set up with all the gear by "Bumpa"(my gramps) who made sure our red and white bobbers were set to just the right depth. He showed us how to put a worm on the hook. Mildly gruesome it was, the first couple of times, but it quickly became routine. "Go ahead and cast!" he'd say, which was really the best part... until the real fun began.
So there we sat in the little boat bobbing in the small waves. Staring at the bobber moving like a bobble head on a dash board was mesmerizing. For what seemed like hours, we sat there while for the most part, the only action we got was to have little blue gill rob us of our worms! "OH OH OH LOOK!" Bumpa we would say when our bobbers started to really bounce. The number of times we were simply excited by Bumpa overly embellishing the bobber action and the times we actually had a fish on the line was probably 10-1. No lack of entertainment! He taught us to play with the line a bit when that happened in hopes that the fish would take a bigger bite and be hooked. A fish fry was on the agenda!
Then it happened. Well, it happened a few times. The red and white bobber dunked quickly and completely under the water! The fight was on!! Bringing in a blue gill, sun fish or maybe a perch was never a physically demanding feat but it is amazing what such a small creature can do when he knows he is caught! The fishing pole is bent over and bouncing rapidly with every flip of the fish tail. Before very long there it was; dangling on the end of my line is a pumpkin seed sunfish. Beautiful! Bumpa always took the fish off the hook and put it on the stringer.
Two to three hours on the lake with five to seven little fish to show for it. What a waist of time right?! Nope. One of the best times in my life.
Self portrait of my brother Steven Haulenbeek. He painted this when he was 19.
Todd Haulenbeek