(Originally published in the July 2006 issue of The Plain Talker.)
Losing the old cabin and moving to a new one brought all sorts of heartaches, headaches and backaches. While it might be true that you can always take your memories with you, it still hurts when you lose the place where all of those memories were made. When the bulldozers demolished the cabin shortly after the moving van pulled out of the driveway, they destroyed more than an old cabin. They destroyed a home, and one of the three things that had been part of my life since the day I was born. And it didn't help any to realize that one of the other two constants-- my mother-- was also now gone.
But, maybe there were some bad things left behind that got destroyed as well. One in particular that I hoped was left buried in the rubble was The Curse.
The Curse is my incredible inability to catch fish, and its power is such that it affects not only me, but anybody in the vicinity of me. When I'm around, nobody catches fish. It's a powerful force; it works in other states, in saltwater, on the Great Lakes, and on charter boats carrying up to 40 fishing passengers. (Sadly, I'm not exaggerating; I have been there when an entire charter boat got skunked. Fortunately, only my friend Jimbo knew that I was the cause of the skunking, and he didn't tell; he knew that if the secret got out, I would probably be tossed overboard, possibly in tiny little pieces.)
The Curse has been with me since the first time I ever tied a lure to a line and made a cast; I can't remember for sure, but that first cast probably resulted in backlash. Or, quite possibly I hung the lure on some underwater hazard-- or in the limbs of a tall tree-- and lost it before it ever had the chance to fail to catch a fish. Whatever the futile result, it was just the first in a long string of failures.
Over the years, I tried everything. I fished at night, in the morning, at dusk, and in the hottest part of the hottest days. I tried artificial lures, live bait, artificial lures that looked like live bait… everything but dynamite. (Which my parents would never buy for me; other wise, who knows?) I fished with people who knew what they were doing, people who had no clue what they were doing, and by myself; I fished in areas I knew well, and in places I had never seen. One thing remained constant-- I so rarely caught a fish that when I did, it was always a big event.
Yes, occasionally, I did catch a fish. I always figured that it was for one of three reasons:
Reason # 1: some fish, like some people, are suicidal, and I just happened to be there when a fish decided to end it all.
Reason # 2: Fish are superstitious, and must sometimes sacrifice one of their own to appease the gods, and I just happened to be there when it was time to make the sacrifice.
Reason # 3: Fish believe in the Death Penalty, and I just happened to be there when they were looking for an executioner.
But even with these three opportunities, I rarely caught more than one fish per year. (Well, one bass per year; bream must not be real fish, because I never seemed to have a problem catching them.) And about ten years ago, I stopped catching even one per year.
But, I thought things might change; why not, since everything else did, seemingly all at the same time. As we worked on the new cabin all winter and spring, I noticed that our new slough was a popular place with fishermen. A little investigating showed me why: the slough is narrow but deep, and lined with plenty of large boulders and fallen trees; there is plenty of habitat for fish here.
I didn't get the chance to do any fishing myself until near the end of March. But I found myself with some free time, so I tied a likely looking lure to my line, and set off in the canoe. I saw a nice-looking spot amid some large rocks that looked like the kind of place I would hang out if I were a fish, and cast my lure in that direction. A few turns of the crank on the reel, and I was hung… on a fish! And not a bream, but a real fish, a bass!! Not a lunker but about two pounds or so, definitely a keeper if I wasn't doing the catch-and-release thing.
It was the first fish I had caught in ten years, and it happened on the first cast at the new cabin. And now, several months later, it's also the last fish I caught, and not for lack of trying. It seems The Curse is alive and well, and it had no problem following me to the new place. I'm not the only one who has noticed; the slough is still frequented by fishermen, but for some reason they never stay more than a few minutes before moving on. Eventually, they'll probably give up trying to fish back here altogether, just like the fishermen in our old slough did. I'm sure they're wondering what happened to all of the fish that used to be in this slough. I hope they don't find out; if they do, they might do to me what those people on that charter boat would have done all those years ago.