My own Memoir

My First Catch

In my family I was always the most dedicated fisherman. I spent most of my time at the cottage
casting lines off the boat and dock looking for a catch. Yet despite fishing for hundreds of hours,
I was never able to catch as much as a goldfish. It was extremely embarrassing, seeing
people who never fished before able to catch pikes within minutes of learning how to
use a fishing rod. Many times, I simply wanted to snap my rod in half and give up. People
jokingly told tell me that I had a curse and would never be able to catch a fish in my life, and
that would only make me feel even more hopeless. Eventually I really started to believe that
I did have a curse and would never been able to catch anything.

One Saturday morning, my whole family came up North to our Muskoka cottage for a long
weekend. It was a hot sunny day, with a refreshing cool breeze calling people to the outdoors.
At dusk I convinced my dad to take our family out on a fishing trip to a large open bay. As
I prepared myself for battle, preparing my rod, net and tackle box, I realized just how ridiculous
I looked. Everyone including myself believed I wouldn’t catch a thing, and yet I was the only
person who had so much gear on them. My brother even jokingly compared me to one of his
friends who had the top of the line skateboarding equipment but was barely able to keep his
balance on a board.

As we loaded ourselves onto the boat we set sail for open waters, some points in the ride we
were going slow enough that I was able to toss a line into the water, I knew the odds of
success were practically nonexistent, but I was not planning on giving up after so much effort.
Upon arrival I admired the northern scenery, still water reflecting a beautiful clear blood red sky.
In the silence and tranquility, we started fishing and within minutes my brother was able to reel
in a bass and everyone cheered for him and for his victory. I kept going and lost myself in a
trance until my father came to tell me that we would be leaving in fifteen minutes. Despite
being familiar with failure when it came to fishing, the thought of leaving empty handed again
made me cringe. As I was reeling in my line for the last time I felt a tug, and I prayed to God
that this was my chance. Out of nowhere I felt a huge pull on the line and almost fell overboard.
Suddenly, everyone watching knew that I was having a fight with a very powerful fish. I was
being thrown left and right like a rag doll and although I had a good line and rod I have no
idea how neither snapped from the fish’s strength. The fish was putting up such a fight and
making such waves that my dad jokingly said he “didn't know there were sharks in Ontario”. After
a long tiring fight, I was able to reel the tired fish above the water and get a good view of it. From
first glance I knew what it was right away. A Musky, the Rolls Royce of the lake, everyone the was
shocked and speechless. The weight alone of the beast was unbelievable, I even needed help just
pulling the fish out of the water. The Musky was a beautiful green and grey color, with very scary teeth.

To me this was a priceless lesson in the importance of discipline and the eventual reward found
in not giving up. I could have packed up my fishing rod and given up on the sport at any one of
my many failures, but I did not. Instead, I kept trying even if I looked seemingly hopeless.