First Fish

Cole Nordskog, 4, never one to shy from a challenge, had a week of triumphs during our annual solstice sojourn at the lake. First and foremost, the fundamental rite of passage into boyhood: catching his first fish, a pumpkinseed sunfish, and he ate it for dinner that night. Thus fortified, he hoofed it three miles round trip to the top of Tofte's Carlton Peak the next day, his first mountain (Jasper rode in a pack on his old man's back). He returned home to master the bicycle, aided by training wheels and a broad patch of asphalt at the playground across the street.

Cole will return to the ocean this summer--we will drive to Cape Cod and Maine this summer, imposing our presence on family and friends all the way. Cole saw the Pacific back when he was one and a half, long before he could tell a sea slug from a nudibranch, and we are shopping for a rooftop cargo carrier just to accomodate his anticipated haul of flotsam and jetsam. Family wisdom dictates that one never bring a shell potentially housing a hermit crab into the car, a lesson learned by yours truly in the jump seat of a Ford LTD circa 1975. There's only so far a boy can flee within the confines of a station wagon.

© 2006 Michael Nordskog