Gone Fishing 

“Carlton.”

Carlton Lassiter looked up from his paper and saw his grandpa with his red fishing shirt that his grandma hated on.

“We’re going fishing?” he said excitedly, putting down his pencil immediately.

His grandma entered the room and looked upon the two men with strict eyes. “Only if your paper is done,” she said with a strong Irish accent.

Carlton’s small boyish face filled with disappointment. He sighed and turned back to his paper, trying to write a conclusion for the 2 page book report his grandmother had assigned him. Never mind that he could barely spell, she expected a book report once a week. Anything graded lower then a B had to be redone.

His grandfather, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “Come on Maggie, the kid needs a break. He’s been working on that thing nonstop since you assigned it to him. 6 year old boys should be having fun over the summer, not writing book reports.”

His efforts on Carlton’s behalf were met with an icy glare. “The boy needs to be smartened up as soon as possible Eric.”

Eric looked at his small grandson. Little Carton Lassiter’s messy dark hair covered his blue eyes as he wrote with extreme concentration. At age six the kid was already a workaholic, doing his grandma’s book reports with as much accuracy as a first grader could manage.

Eric looked at his wife with pleading eyes. “Please Maggie, it’s just one day of fishing.”

Margaret’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “Fine,” she said curtly. “But bring the book with you.”

Carton jumped up with excitement. “Thank you Grandma!”

Margaret just rolled her eyes, but hid a soft smile as her grandson scurried past her to get the bait box.

Her eyes fell on Eric, whose smile was almost as wide as little Carlton’s. “Thanks Maggie.”

The sun’s setting set off an explosion of color, turning the sky shades of pink, yellow, blue, and red. The still waters of the lake were disturbed only by the gently swaying of the fishing boat in the center. The fishing boat was small and worn, but it did the job. There was no bucket for the fish, as it was strictly catch and release with the Lassiter men.

“Hey Grandpa?”

Eric looked up from his fishing pole. “Yeah kid?”

“Do we have to go in soon?”

“Yeah,” Eric replied, yet neither person moved. They were too content sitting in the boat, listening to the crickets. The silence was rudely interrupted by a shrill, “Grandpa!”

Eric scrambled over to the other side of the boat. “Did you get one kid?” he asked, excitement building.

Carlton began pulling on his reel, face contorted with the effort of pulling. “I think so,” he said breathlessly.

“Okay kid, give it some slack. Now reel her in.”

Carlton gave one final pull and the line snapped out of the water.

Eric gave one look at what was biting on the hook and burst out laughing.

“That’s some fish you got there kid,” he teased, helping Carlton unhook the poor thing. The fish was nothing more then a little guppy, only about five inches long. He tossed it gently overboard.

Carlton’s face flushed with embarrassment. He watched the little guy swim gratefully back to its home. “It was still my third one today,” he insisted.

Eric just smiled. He began gathering up the fishing gear, ready to escape the converging mosquitoes. Eric stood up and stretched his back; he was getting too old to sit in this hard boat all day. Eric’s eyes caught something as he checked to make sure that they had all of their gear.

Carlton glanced over. “Yeah, it’s about a dog that saves his owner. I still have to do the last paragraph,” he said sullenly.

“Hmm.” Eric grinned. “In the conclusion you could point out that you and the dog have the same name.”

Carlton’s head snapped up in bemusement. “But we don’t,” he said cocking his head to the side.

“Your last name is Lassiter and the dog’s name is Lassie,” Eric said grinning.

“I don’t want to be compared to a dog!” Carlton said angrily.

Eric began rowing them back to shore, his paddles making ripples in the still water. “I don’t see why not. You said the dog saves people, right?”

“Yeah?” Carlton said, a little suspicious the conversation’s direction. I mean why would he want to be some rough collie?

“So maybe you can save people someday.”

Carlton’s eyes widened. “Do you really think so?”

“If that’s what you want to do,” his grandpa said, jumping out of the boat. Carlton contemplated his words while Eric brought the boat to shore. “Maybe I will,” he said thoughtfully. He hopped out of the boat and walked away from the now almost invisible sun towards his grandparent’s house.

“Just remember not to let your grandma or schoolwork stop you from having fun, okay Lassie?” Eric said, winking as he strolled up to the door of his house.

“Okay Grandpa.”

 Thirty years later, Carlton Lassiter sat in his fishing boat, looking at the same sunset that had overlooked the sky on that day so long ago. He had taken the day off, wishing to enjoy the evening. When Juliet asked why, Carlton simply said that he needed a break from work. He hadn’t caught any fish, but that never bothered Carlton. Someone had once told him that it wasn’t about the fish; it was about the fun you had trying. Carlton smiled and opened a beer, giving a toast to the night. “Happy Birthday Grandpa.”