I Sacrifice Principle for Love - Dogmas, Grandchildren and Grasshoppers
Years ago, a (former) girl friend of mine made an embarrassing, wrong selection on a multiple choice exam question; she identified "dogma" as a "female puppy."
There were other reasons (some "bitchy") that relationship went south - not relevant beyond this point in the story, however.
Dogmas - ("principles laid down by an authority as being incontrovertibly true") -- interestingly, like dogs, can sometimes bite you in the ass. An unlikely, but nonetheless applicable such dogma, a fishing -dogma, in fact ... bit me!
Yes, I said "fishing," and I know an explanation is required since I've opened a "can-of-worms" (pun sort of intended).
Actually, I'm this is about grasshoppers ... not worms, and a net ... not a can.
I'm one of those fly-fisherman/environmentalist types -- and we don't fish with live bait, dead bait or any edible bait; neither do we fish with hooks that have barbs (those reverse curved projections near the hook point). Fish will swallow live bait, etc., if at first they don't detect the hook, and consequently will swallow the hook which usually kills them. A barbless hook makes its removal from a fish's mouth, smooth and easy.
I'm a "catch-and-release" guy. That's the dogma -- catch the fish, land the fish, gently unhook the fish, (sometimes photograph the fish) and release the fish unharmed. I'm also an adult (although I do remind my wife occasionally that while "we can't stop the aging process, I can always act immature if I feel like") -- and sometimes I do "feel like."
Being an "adult," on days when all those fishing around me are catching fish with bait - worms and minnows, I will still fish with an artificial insect imitation (a "fly") that I tied using thread, feathers and other materials which a hooked fish will know, once "tasting" it, to try and spit it out rather than swallow it. On such days, I don't catch as many fish as the bait-fisherman, and being an adult, I stand by my catch-and-release dogma accepting the fact that I don't need to catch a lot of fish, or any at all for that matter, to enjoy the experience.
My grandson on the other hand, is a child. If he's not catching fish, it's just about impossible for him (after a half-hour or so), to accept ... which is difficult for me to accept because when I'm fishing with my grandson, I never want it to end.
One afternoon a couple of summers back, neither my grandson nor I, nor anyone fishing near us, were catching fish -- not with bait, not with flies -- not with anything.
Ideology -- the dogma, and, the emotional pragmatism of a grandfather's love, collided. From my dark past as a bait fisherman (hey, I went to the B.A. meetings, o.k. ... oh ... sorry ... it stands for "Baitfishers Anonymous,") I pulled out a long-forsaken strategy ... no ... a formula, a compromise of principle, the rejection of a dogma for the sake of love ... for the sake of making my grandson happy.
Grasshoppers! All around the edge of the lake, like snakes-in-the-grass ... scratch that unnecessary metaphor ... like the grasshoppers they were ... they sat, yes ... those juicy grasshoppers! While not the easiest of creatures to put firmly on a fishhook, once impaled and in the water, they catch fish -- all kinds of fish. Even on a hot day in bright sunlight, a hungry bass, a curious trout and damn near any sunfish in America will rise from the shade of a submerged rock or stand of water lilies to the distressed kicking of a grasshopper that wants out.
With my grandson kicking the grass in front of him as he walked, and I, waiting some ten feet ahead with a fishnet then used to catch the grasshoppers fleeing in panic from his foot steps, one-at-a-time, the grasshoppers and my grandson made me compromise my fishing principles, my environmentalist ethic, my dogma.
It was in part, "vanity" that caused me to gloat (inwardly to myself) and to praise openly, over-and-over, my grandson, as baffled, fishless veteran anglers watched him catch-and-release, using grasshoppers for bait while they couldn't even ... catch . And we never let on how he did it!
I will personally , never go back to the insensitive and evil practice of baitfishing. I am, after all, a man of principle.
But I am also a grandfather; and to fish with my grandson is to receive a gift from the cosmos ... from God ... from whoever or whatever put men, grandfathers, grandchildren, bass, trout, those not-so-smart sunfish and even ... grasshoppers down here.
For those who haven't experienced this, this words-can-never-express feeling of having a grandchild's fishy hands and fingers give you a hug, if/when you ever do, like a fish or two I've known, you also will be "caught." And you will then, without the slightest need to think about it, wish to forever ... avoid the release.
Fishing with my grandson at sunset ... life put into proper perspective.
Life sometimes imitates Art.
All Rights Reserved/Article & Images/A. Macarthur
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I Sacrifice Principle for Love.
A wonderful story about love and a good lesson on ethics as well as dogmas.
Life is made up of wonderful shades of gray. You, as a photographer know that. No picture is really black and white, but a mixture of the two, producing life as shades of gray.
No dogma isabsolute. When it becomes absolute, then we are a slave to it.
One day, when your grandson grows up, he'll understand what you did for him that day.
Damn well said, Mike!
What a beautiful story Mac. I'm not really sure you sacrificed anything other than time. There will be a time when you can teach your grandson about catch and release. Then wasn't the time.
What a moving tale Mac ... Thanks for sharing that with the rest of us .
Thanks Rich,
I'm happy to see you here and glad our heated politial discussions do not adversely affect our friendship.
Mike,
Every now and then, you hit the mark so hard, that it's hard to argue with you.
Those moments when real life impacts with the who we think we are, who we like to believe we are, are challenged, is when we what we are really made of. Sometimes, it's also knowing when one ideal is more important than another. Love is always one of those.
Great post.
What better forum for streams of consciousness than one involving water!
There is nothing like fishing with Grandpa and I still have many fond memories of fishing trips with mine. Great Article A.M.!