Fishing is a very popular sport. There are men who wait each year to take their hard-earned vacation at their favorite fishing spot. While the wife may wait for her vacation to go on a cruise, see the world or get to that place that has the perfect shoes, her husband will be waiting for the call of the babbling brook. It is trout season. He and the guys will pack their vehicles full of fishing gear. They will have everything from bait to fishing rods. They have been shopping and stocking those tackle boxes all year. The perfect lure, the perfect hook, the perfect line, all purchased in the hopes of making “the perfect catch.”
Fishing is a ritual. There are groups who have gone to the same spot year after year, fishing and bonding. It is a place where the guys come together to be guys. The cabin or lodge is their sanctuary. They will not pick up their socks, they may or may not even wash the dishes. But they will fish. Oh boy, will they fish. They will get up early and fish well into the night. If they are stream fishing, they will don waterproof pants and stand in the water for hours on end, casting their lines again and again, trying to land that perfect catch. During this ritual, they will bond as friends. They will solve the problems of the world. By the end of the fishing trip they will know what needs to be done, they will have figured out where the country went wrong, why the economy is in trouble, and what the president should do to fix it. They will solve all of their marital problems, their issues at work, the latest family crises and, maybe, just maybe, they will catch a fish. A fish that gives them the bragging rights until next year’s trip.