Awakening the inner fisher

Two years ago my daughter made a critical error in judgment. She suggested we go fishing. 

I hadn't fished in years. My fishing rod was buried beneath something in the basement. I didn't even know where my tackle box was – did I still have a tackle box? By now my hooks must have been rusted through.  

But sure enough, they were there... waiting. Little did my daughter know that I was a recovering fisherman – or to be politically correct, fisherperson... or fisher... My point is, once that passion is re-awoken, there's no turning back. 

That summer we drove... and drove... and drove... 'Til we found a lake where you could actually catch fish from the dock. We were boatless at the time.  

My first cast brought forth a fighter like I've never seen – so vicious that it took off with my hook and leader. After a sufficient bout of yelling and yes, cursing, I promptly revisited my knot-tying technique. The next one wouldn't get away. 

Maybe it was an hour later – I can't really remember, time tends to blur when fishing – but I caught a second one. A huuuuge two-pounder. But oh, did it fight!  

I was doing it for my daughter, of course, so I held the flapping creature up to her face with glee. She was aghast. Particularly when I had to end the little guy's life. She was equally displeased to watch, while holding a flashlight in a stench-filled filleting station, as I butchered the little pike into the semblance of two fillets. 

On that point, let's be clear: I don't fish for sport. I fish for food. Catch-and-release is highly over-rated, especially when you're not used to catching anything. But it's very important that you actually have some meat leftover after you fillet the fish.  

This is where Youtube became invaluable in the offseason. And a long, sharp knife. So long and sharp that one might slice open one's finger upon its first use.  

And so began the fishing season of 2017. With a heavily bandaged index finger, I laboriously gutted a four-pound jack (hey, that's a monster in my world). It was all worth it.  

Most importantly, my daughter caught her first fish. Technically, her second fish, if not for another poorly tied knot. Upon bringing this one in, her eyes lit up. While she refused to watch its savage beating, she still enjoyed the thrill of the catch. 

Had I awoken her inner fisher? There were definitely early signs of obsessive fishing behaviour, although by the third day on the lake, she had had enough. You can only push a child so far. 

There must be a fishing gene and I dearly hope she has it. My grandma, who is now 95, was a passionate fisher. She would spend hours on the dock, casting without a care while my grandpa relaxed in the cabin.  

When my daughter caught her first fish of the season this last weekend, I thought I saw a glimpse of my grandma in her face. She pulled it out of the water like it belonged to her. (Okay, I pulled the fish out, but you could sense the passion in her screams.) 

The second fish brought out even more emotion, as we nearly tipped our canoe in 40 km/h winds. The fish made its appearance on the opposite side of the boat and then was gone. I wanted to try another cast, but my daughter persisted that we venture to safety. I believe her exact words were: "Get me outta here!" 

We tend to get riled up when fishing, as my wife will attest. There's yelling, complaining, and sometimes crying (although I'm getting better). 

For a true fisher, nothing can compare. 

If they say, it must be right

"They say it's better to water the lawn for one extended period as opposed to shorter, more frequent watering," I explained to my loving wife. 

"Okay," was her listless response. It was enough for her. She didn't even ask who they were. And after watering the lawn for an hour, not even I knew who they were anymore. I simply knew that they must be the authority on lawn watering. 

They say carries a lot of weight these days.  

Now some critical people, like myself, need a few more sources than they say. My wife understands this, so she'll often qualify her statements with: "I heard it on the CBC." She knows that the CBC is my they say. Because the CBC, as we know, is the word of God (at least on all things secular).  

I confess: I'm just as trusting as the rest of humankind. I can be easily swayed by what I read online or what I see on TV. When I do a Google search, I usually trust the first answer I get. And when I hear it on the CBC, I know it must be true. 

But this admission is not intended to discredit the value of real facts. They are still extremely important. When I'm choosing whether to vaccinate my child or not, I want real facts, not they say facts; not even the CBC may know for certain! I want a scientific consensus on the issue, not some celebrity's take on what may cause autism. 

The problem is, we are bombarded by so many alternative facts and views that it becomes difficult to distinguish between what is real and what is not. This can be dangerous. It's why there are new outbreaks of measles and rubella throughout North America. Maybe polio will make a comeback too. 

On a political level, the problems are equally concerning. Dictators rise to power by discrediting real news organizations and confusing the public with misinformation. They eventually become the only source of news, and if well-executed, can easily dupe their own citizens. 

We are all susceptible to being duped, but the recent distrust of the "mainstream media" is worrying. In a 2017 poll issued by the Economist, 45 percent of Republicans favoured permitting courts to shut down media organizations that are "biased" or "inaccurate."  

This is crazy. Any political leader in the world would label some news organizations as biased. Politicians don't like the media in general because it reports so much bad news about them – thereby keeping them honest and accountable to the people. I'm not suggesting that conservatives are more anti-free speech than liberals, but that the conditions in the U.S. (maybe in Canada too) are dangerously ripe for media censorship and government control. 

One has only to look to Russia to see where we could end up. The 2017 documentary Icarus gives us a taste of government deception at its best (or worst). If not for a critical whistle-blower, the doping scandal of the Sochi Olympics would have never seen the light of day. The lengths to which the Russian government operated to cheat the system – led by the FSB (today's KGB) – were extraordinary. 

It became headline news in North America and Europe and led to a full investigation. It's why we saw no Russian flags this past winter Olympics. 

In Russia, the public is largely unaware. Their government continues to call it fake news.