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The Fisher of Stories



I catched a big fish the fish was ginormous. My dad catched a ginormous turtle. It was a mean turtle. The wind was (unreadable and he couldn’t remember what he wrote). And we went to the military.

The wind was wicked gusty.


Today was really fun. We went fishing and then saw the Ft. Gibson National Cemetery. When we were fishing my dad caught a turtle and said “Stand back.” “Yes sir,” we said back. Clip, my dad clipped him off and it ran madly back to the water. Then I/my dad got a huge fish up to the bank then my dad had a fish and lost it and last my brother caught a fish couldn’t get the hook off but my dad did and then we packed up and left. On the way back I asked my dad “Where is the national cemetery?” And then my dad took us. There were a lot of people who have fought for our country. Then we left, went home, and wrote this. Then ate lunch. The End. 

We do not have lounge chairs.


I like to fish.
Today I took our son and daughter out with me. The wind was terrible, and when we got to the pond I immediately regretted spending five dollars on minnows. But we soldiered on.
The lines went in the water, and before long corks started going under. Akeeli did what Akeeli normally does, which is catch a lot of fish but then lose them at the bank.
For the first time since we’ve started fishing, Aven caught more fish than anyone, and he was actually pulling them on the bank and taking them off, then throwing them back into the water.
Then, my cork went under. As I reeled it in, I knew something felt wrong. I told the kids I thought I’d caught a turtle, and sure enough, I hauled an enormous “Tennessee Fightin’ Turtle*” out of the water. The neck on this thing was longer than my leg and it. was. pissed.
I told the kids to get back because it kept charging us, and I kept yanking it up in the air, making the relationship more difficult. I finally got my clippers, stretched it out as far as I could, and clipped the line, letting the thing run straight back into the water.
In the meantime, Aven caught yet another fish.
Then, Keeli’s cork went straight under. Being a girl, and naturally predisposed to not paying attention, she didn’t see it.
“Keeli, your cork is gone.”
She set the hook and started reeling like crazy.
“Dad, it’s too big. You’ll have to do it.”
I took the rod and to my surprise, she had a nice fish attached. Then it jumped. It was amazing. After a couple more minutes, I drug the fish onto the bank…and lost it.
Then I told them about how to construct a “the one that got away” story.
As we left, I sneezed about 600 times and my eyes swelled shut due to my “seasonal” allergies. I was dying.

Not pretty y’all.

On the way home, Keeli asked me where the National Cemetery was in Fort Gibson. I asked if either of them had ever been, and they both said no. I figured then was as good a time as any for an object lesson, so I drove them out there.
I told them how those people were the reason we could go fishing, go to church, and be free. I told them there were more people serving who were helping to protect those rights as well, including their Uncle Josh.
As we drove out of the cemetery, Keeli looked at me and said, “We probably better go home, your eyes are watering from your allergies.”
Yeah. My allergies. Stupid allergies.
I like to fish. I love our kids.

It was a cloudy, brisk spring day in April, and I had decided that I wanted to do some fishing. I called up Lane Metzger, and we met up to go down to a dock. I’ve taken the liberty of using MS Paint to draw you an overview.
This is what this particular dock looked like in an aerial, badly drawn view. The brown stuff is land, the blue stuff is water. Don’t like my drawings? Lump it.
Lane and I ventured out onto the little walkway, and we started trying to catch some fish. We couldn’t really get a good cast into the dock, because of that little thing in the middle there. The thing with the “X” and the curvy yellow line by it. That is a locked gate, obvs to keep people like me from getting into docks and actually catching fish. Douchebags, right? I mean, they pay for the privilege to fish and park their boats there, but for sure, they could let me in? Nope.
We decided we were going around the gate.

Before I go into that, let me tell you what we were wearing. Winter clothes. I had on a pair of boots, jeans, a long sleeve shirt and under that a waffle shirt. Because it was COLD. It was still chilly, and the water, as I soon found out, was still very cold as well.

Lane is about 6’6″ and maybe weighs 8 pounds soaking wet. I exaggerate, but he’s skinny. The yellow loopy line represents what he did. He held on with one hand, did a swingy type thing like a stripper on a pole, and latched on the other side with his free hand. Easy peasy.
I got this.
Now, looking at the above graphic, you can see the red X. This stands for fail. I decided to go around the other side, because I’m right handed. That was literally my only reason for doing it. I thought that since I was right handed, I should be using my right hand to perform the back half of the maneuver.

I was wrong.

I handed my cell phone and my wallet to Lane, which in hindsight was the only smart thing I did all day, and I gathered some courage. I stepped over the bar, and gathered more courage.

I swung out.

To give you an idea of what I was doing, stand up, open a door, and try to touch the walls on both sides of it. Some of you may be able to do this. Those of you who can may be 6’6″ and NOT have a gut in your way. So begins what is the slowest fall of my life.
I basically just started slipping into the water. Due to sheer determination, I slipped in increments.

Slip. Oh man, I’m going in.

Slip. Oh man, that water is cold.

Slip. Geez, I can’t hang on!


Lane describes the sound I made going under as Blllllllllllllllllloop. I can’t confirm that, because I was busy drowning. That water was DEEP. And COLD.

I could not pull myself back up on the dock, because that takes upper body strength and not suffering from hypothermia. Also, I’m fat. I had to SWIM in all that clothing I had on, back up to the bank. I was wicked pissed, but I had to laugh, mainly because Lane couldn’t stop. Douche.

We went home so I could change clothes, then we went right back out snuck into another dock that didn’t present as much of a challenge. We didn’t catch anything though, and that was lame.
I deserved it, but from now on, I’ll take my justice hot, thanks.Hello all,
Sorry I’ve been a posting dud here lately. I’ve just been very busy! I got a new tattoo today. A bit of a back story on it. I saw the painting in a Christian bookstore a few years back and the second I saw it, I started crying. I don’t preach much on here, because it’s not what this is for. But to me this painting summed up what I think is Gods entire collection of feelings for us. The painting is called “Forgiven.” That being said, here’s the pic!The words underneath read: The Beauty of Grace is that it makes life not fair.
I love it!
I’m going fishing tomorrow with a 16 year old foreign exchange student from Brazil. We’ve been once and nothing exciting happened. Hopefully tomorrow will be the day!So the first two didn’t really count, I was trying to fix something. (that’s what she said)
Anyways, this post is actually about fishing. Imagine that. You come to a blog that has fish in the title, and you think, “Hmmm… Does this guy ever ever fish?” Yes, my faithful 11. Yes I do.
I went out tonight with The Missus to Taylor Ferry in Wagoner. We were just going out to relax, and possibly fish with Marinas 2 boys. You remember them? From this post. Marina wasn’t there, but her kids were with her new man friend. I prolly should give him a name. But I’ll let him tell me what he wants to be. I don’t just go around naming people. Unless it’s idiot.
On the way out, we had what is becoming a routine “Did you grab (insert item here)?” This time, it was the corks I bought from Wal-Mart earlier. “No” came back the answer. It’s my fault really, not even hers. I say, “It’s cool, I have some in my tackle box maybe.” So we get to the water, and guess what? I haven’t brought my tackle box. Geez. I’m nothing if not unprepared. I have minnows and worms, but no hooks or corks. Classic. So I hop in the truck and head to the nearest store. I get the items I need, and some I don’t, and head back. I get out of the truck, tell The Missus that I was practically robbed. “What was the total?”, she asked. “7 dollars! Can you believe it?” “Ummm… These tags don’t add up to 7 dollars, Travis. And you smell funny. What did you get to eat?”
So we start fishin. The 8 year old and the 5 year old start treating corks like they are rooster tails. Castin out, reelin back in. Sigh. It was about this time that The Missus points out the sand bass jumping on the other side of the point. I’m gonna explain what that means. When sand bass start feeding, they herd all the bait fish up into shallow water, and then they just start tearing them up. Kinda what Pharoh had in mind with the Egyptians, only he forgot about Moses totally being tight with God. So when they start feeding, they go into a frenzy, much like Piranhas. When they do this, you can toss ANYTHING with a hook in the water, and you’ll catch a fish. (I tried to find a picture of this, and I can’t. That is a new mission of mine.)
So there they go. The 8 year old says, “You can drive around there.””Where?””This road.””Get in the freakin truck.”
I drive around the point like I’m chasing the guy who stole my fishing poles that one time. (I might tell that one tomorrow.) I get to the point, and they’ve stopped. Lame. I fish for a couple more minutes, and I look over, and The Missus is neck deep in a school of them. I’ll give the 8 year old credit. When I yelled to get in the truck, he didn’t even hesitate. I’m pretty sure he even did a hood slide across my truck. I REVERSED down the same road I went down, did a backwards hockey slide, and got back to the other side without putting my truck in the lake.
My reward for this Duke Boys drivin? 1 fish. The Missus still had her first fish on her line, and she waited patiently for me to take it off. You know, that used to annoy the hell out of me, but I love it now. I caught one, took hers off, and the fish were gone. Laaaaaame.
I spent the rest of the evening on that side, and sure enough, the fish went back to the other side. They came back our way a couple more times, but I was running back and forth and always got there a little too late. I caught one more fish the entire evening.
It was the most fun I’ve had this week.
If you’ve never been sandbass fishing, or fishing at all, for that matter, go. Please. Take your kids. Take your wife, or your girlfriend. I got very lucky in life. The Missus is my fishin buddy. A lot of guys have other guy fishin buddies. I prefer my arrangement.
My fishin buddy will totally have sex with me after I take a shower. That’s wicked cool. And totally not gay.
(I used totally a lot. Geez. I’m totally sorry.)