Fishing Bug Caught Early

Growing up in Pelham Manor, NY, I received my first fishing rod in sixth grade as a Confirmation present. I had been introduced to fishing the previous year during a week- long trip taken with my schoolmates dubbed as “Outdoor Education”.  While that was a freshwater excursion, my sights quickly turned to saltwater as the Long Island Sound was in my backyard.
 
As a ten year old, my fishing excursions were limited to those places I could get my parents to take me, which usually ended up being the Larchmont Shore Club, where we were members when I was a kid. A typical routine would have me heading to the club for a painful couple of hours of swim team practice, followed by hours of “snapper” bluefish fishing in the Sound.
 
I clearly remember the excitement I felt with every tug on the line, regardless of the size of the fish. My interest in fishing grew even further one summer day when my rod bent over faster and harder than I had ever felt before. I had seen some of the men fishing the Sound land bigger bluefish, so I thought that I had finally graduated from only catching snapper blues to the bigger variety. However after a fish fight that seemed to go on forever, I was treated to the sight of a strange fish, with stripes running down both sides of it’s streamlined body. This moment, I believe, became ingrained in my head, causing the addiction I have today to the sport.
 
As I grew from pre-teen to teenager, my interest in fishing waned as I became preoccupied with other things that teenagers typically pursue such as; sports, girls, friends and being annoying to my parents. Did I mention girls?
 
My interest in fishing never really left me completely as I would find myself watching the fishing shows on Saturday and Sunday mornings throughout high school and even while attending college in New Hampshire. Although still busy with my studies and extracurricular activities, an impromptu trip to Martha’s Vineyard towards the end of my college years brought fishing back to the forefront of my mind.
 
Once I graduated from college and moved to Boston, I began to research the historic fishing grounds that surrounded my new home. This led to the persistent accumulation of fishing gear that continues to this day and a sometimes one-dimensional train of thought—especially during the height of the saltwater fishing season.
 
By the way, that rod from sixth grade hangs in my garage today.