Grumpy Old Ganz

“Where to begin?” is the question that crossed my mind as I sat down to write this editorial. I’d rather not talk about it, but I feel it would be a disservice not to. Against my better judgement and pride, I have to.

After last week’s column, my friend called me immediately and offered a “rematch” to the fishing trip “gone wrong” and I, of course, instantly said yes.

He said that he wanted to leave a little early and had to make a quick stop along the way which “should take about five minutes”.

“No problem,” I responded!

I arrived, we hooked up the boat and headed off for what I was expecting to be a long day of fishing with him and his son.

On the way to the lake we made the supposed “five minute” stop. I guess my friend has a different way of calculating time than the rest of the world. An hour and a half later we were back on the road on our way to the fishing hole, which took us another forty-five minutes to get to.

We got in the boat, against my better judgment, because the wind had picked up and there were white caps rolling right toward us. The boat ride was what I expected—rough! Eventually we found a quiet bay with little or no wind, dropped the anchor and began fishing.

I got the first bite, but lost it. Time passed and no one else had even gotten a bite, then I heard those antagonizing words reiterated just like on our previous fishing trip...“fish on”.

You guessed it! Need I say more?

We returned to the landing and loaded the boat with my friend and myself never catching a single fish.

As we were leaving, my friend’s son said, “Dad, can you pass me the hand sanitizer? My hands smell like bass.” The boy turned to me and said, “You don’t need any, you didn’t touch any!”

Moral of the story: Learn from your mistakes. (I’m not going to try for the third “strike” out.)