When I was a kid, I used to fish now and then with my parents. I remember it so vividly. I grew up in an area that was surrounded by two rivers and some small (very small) lakes and ponds. Not a lot of water, but some. Enough. We'd pack up peanut butter and homemade raspberry freezer jam sandwiches on white bread (my favorite to this day!), grab our poles and jump in the car. Not more than a 10 minute drive, we'd park along the lake, spill out of the car and I would race to the water's edge, throwing up hot, dusty clouds in my wake. I always had to be shushed by the regulars, who had been there since dawn. My mother, at that time, was the general manager of a sporting goods store. A local, small-town iconic type of store that was every kid's dream. They covered everything: hunting, fishing, camping, soccer, football, baseball, tennis, skiing, volleyball - you name it, they did it. They had fashion shows with special guests, including NFL quarterbacks and magicians. Summer sidewalk sales with ice cream and popcorn. Ski demos with Olympic medalists. It was a magical place. As the child of the GM, I spent hours upon hours exploring every nook and cranny. I would sit in the tent displays and eat dehydrated strawberries. Climb in the rafters and peer down at customers. Collect ski wax shavings and make interesting sculptures. Hide under tennis skirt displays and draw pictures of people's shoes. Sit in the employee lounge and conduct mock hirings with imaginary applicants. (Yes, I really did that.) I had to work too. During inventory times, I was given jobs like counting the number of individual letters used for team shirts. Yep. Tedious, but I loved it all. The place had the ridiculously decadent added benefit of being directly in front of a bakery, so like clockwork, the intoxicating smell of baking bread would waft through the store two times a day. Heaven. It really was. I was like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory.
Since my mother was like Willy Wonka, she was my idol. She ran that place with incredible energy and discipline. Everyone knew where the buck stopped. She knew every employee's work habits, every vendor by heart, and how every piece of equipment in that huge store was used. She didn't ski or really play any sports, but she knew it all like the back of her hand. The right shoe for such-and-such activity, the best ski length for your height/weight, the appropriate tennis racket grip. She also had spent her childhood farming, fishing and camping. As a result, my fishing pole, quite simply, rocked. Sparkly green with a push-button release reel. Cool. And my teacher was my mom. Cool.
I'm remembering it all today because a thought occurred to me about fishing in general. Throwing something out there and seeing what you can catch. I've always been a fisherman in that sense. Typically very willing to ask questions, give an idea or an opinion, introduce myself to a new friend, spark up a conversation with a stranger. But I realize now that I was only fishing on sunny days and maybe not always catching what it is that I'm really looking for, or maybe what I need. I think to do so means you have to be more vulnerable. Rain pouring down, freezing cold, poor visibility. But the good stuff is under there in a storm, isn't it? (Did you read or see "The Perfect Storm"? It was also "The Greatest Catch")
This blog is helping me do that. Opening myself up a little further. Facebook, Twitter. Places where being more active can mean more vulnerability, but you also catch more things. Ideas, feedback, humor, opinions, leads, friendship. You can't get back what you didn't put out there to begin with. Doesn't mean I am telling all my FB friends what I am having for breakfast, but I am interested in the idea of being active in some meaningful way. Seeing what I can learn about myself and others. I am active in LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter professionally as well. What can I learn about my profession, the industry, colleagues and business in general from these mediums? It's been a methodical, slow process, but I am finding that I am learning a lot and it's been a good place to be.
In my personal life, I am trying to augment what I am already putting out there with more honest, grounded expressions of myself as well. Not with everyone, and still not about everything, but I'm trying. Honesty can be hard, for the giver and the receiver, and I'm a believer that not everything needs to be discussed or shared. I'm also fishing for more experiences in general. Trying new things or pushing my boundaries on old ideas and experiences. This fishing on a rainy day has huge benefits. Feedback, discussion, compassion, opinions, even criticism, are all essential to developing my own intellect, boundaries, empathy, motivation and self-esteem. It's been a worthy exercise for sure.
I don't remember as many of the big picture details of those fishing expeditions with my mother as maybe I would like. How many fish I caught or didn't catch, how often we went, what bait we used to catch what fish. Who knows? But I remember my mom baiting my hook, her brown curly hair blocking my view as she did her job, showing me how to cast, her hand over mine, and yes, even the occasional yelling of my name as I cast too close to a neighbor. I loved it. As a friend reminded me, "Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime." I think I'm finding that I'm ready to do more of it, rain or shine, and see what I can catch.
