The Day My Grandkids Took Me Fishing
Contributing Writer, Ronnie Wendt
You know that song Don’t Take the Girl? Well, I was the girl who got left on the dock whenever my dad went fishing.
My little brother got to go; just not me. I was told I talked too much, was too squeamish about worms and fish on hooks, and of course, like a good sibling, my brother always let me know that I wasn’t fishing material.
Looking back, they weren’t wrong. The idea of touching something slimy made me sick.
But when your grandchildren ask if Grandma will take them fishing, you don’t have the luxury of saying, “Sorry kids, Grandma’s gift is writing, not worms.“
But to tell the truth, my first instinct was to look for a perfectly logical reason why we couldn’t go and had to do something else instead.
“We don’t have any worms,” I said confidently.
Without missing a beat, my oldest grandson replied, “Yes we do, Grandma. We have worms in the refrigerator for our turtle.”
Sure enough, I opened the fridge and there sat a little container of worms between the yogurt and lunch meat. Looks like this family keeps very different groceries than I do.
Just like that, my only excuse had vanished.
My first hurdle was to set up the fishing poles, which were still in their packaging. Thank goodness for Google and clear pictures on the boxes.
Fishing poles in hand, my grandchildren marched off to the pier like seasoned fishing guides while I pulled a rattling wagon stocked with snacks, water and enough gear to outfit a fishing tournament.
Once on the fishing pier, I opened their tackle box.
The inside looked like a rainbow had exploded. The tackle box was full of gold and silver hooks, feathered lures, plastic worms and a few gadgets I’d never seen in my life, much less used.
Thankfully, my grandchildren were blissfully unaware of my lack of credentials.
As bluegills flashed under the dock and dragonflies skimmed the water’s surface, I also discovered a few things about fishing and about myself.
To my surprise, I can set up a fishing pole. Bobbers, sinkers, hooks, the works. I watched a YouTube video twice, threaded the line, and cheered like I’d won the jackpot when everything worked as it should.
I also don’t mind touching worms, baiting hooks and unhooking fish. I will admit I stared at that first worm for a solid minute, silently negotiating with myself before picking it up with two fingers like it was radioactive.
I also discovered you can absolutely talk while fishing and still catch fish. I’m sorry to all the fishermen who insist otherwise.
No one whispered on our fishing trip. My granddaughter danced every time the bobber went down, while her brother offered a constant stream of advice whether I’d asked for it or not. There were cheers, snack requests, and constant cries of “Grandma! Grandma! I think I got one!” If noise scares fish away, no one bothered to tell the bluegills.
Now, I’m pretty sure fishing will never be a hobby of mine. There are a lot of pastimes to choose from, and given the choice, I’ll pick a paintbrush over a fishing pole every time. But I love my grandchildren, and will do this for them again, squeamish or not.
As we packed up our gear and counted seven fish, I realized the biggest thing I’d caught that afternoon wasn’t swimming in the bucket. It was the discovery that if someone I love depends on me to learn something, I will learn it. To take my grandkids fishing, I watched a video, asked questions, made mistakes, and eventually figured it out.
Somewhere along the line, I’d talked myself into believing that I really wasn’t fishing material. My grandchildren proved me wrong. They reminded me that I’ve learned plenty of hard things before. And if I can bait a hook and take a squirming fish off the line without fainting, what else can I do?
God gives each of us talents and gifts that come naturally. But He also gives us the capacity to learn, grow and do things we never dreamed we could. I may never be a fishing guide, but I can take my grandkids fishing. I may never hike Mount Everest, but I can hike the Northwoods.
I also learned that our growth isn’t limited to practical skills. Faith often grows the same way. God calls us out of our comfort zones so we can discover what He’s trying to teach us.
And finally, I also learned that sometimes all God needs to grow us is a grandchild, a fishing pole and the willingness to leave the dock.
How to Take the Grandkids Fishing
1. Forget perfection. Make memories instead.
The fish won’t remember whether the line was cast perfectly, but your grandchildren will hold tight to the memory of being with you by the water. Keep the focus on fun, not technique.
2. Expect lots of talking.
Seasoned anglers may tell you that silence is required. But kids don’t whisper. They laugh, ask questions and celebrate every nibble. Let them. Joy is part of the experience.
3. Celebrate every catch—even the tiny ones.
To a child, a 4-inch bluegill might as well be a trophy bass. Snap the picture, cheer loudly, and make every catch feel like the catch of the day. That’s how a lifelong love of fishing begins.
4. Tell the Tall Tales
On the walk home, my grandson proudly told everyone we passed that we’d caught 11 fish. It was actually seven, but I didn’t correct him. After all, every good fisherman knows the story gets a little bigger with each retelling. Let them tell the tale.
