Today would have been Dad’s 67th birthday. I like to think he would be retired and spending his days fishing all over the place. It just seems like what he would be doing if he were retired. I imagine he would be out on the Delaware River (I think he liked the West Branch because it was a colder river and the flies hatched later in the year or something. I vaguely remember him explaining it to me years ago.
It never really mattered what flies were hatching or what the fish were taking on a given day because Dad was a master with sucker spawn. And not just any sucker spawn, he tied a version that he called the Z-Fly. A quick story about how he discovered that pattern. He was fishing at Sinnemahoning one day and nothing was biting. He noticed this other guy catching some and he asked what he was using. Quick aside to this side story…
Flyfishermen can be an odd bunch at times. Some guys are extremely secretive about the fly they are using. I have seen guys act like it was the biggest secret in the world. You would ask them and they would say “oh just a wet nymph.” Yeah, obviously, which one? It was always weird to me considering most guys would be catch & release. What is the point of not allowing others to enjoy the time out? Dad was not one of those guys. He would tell anyone that asked and if they did not have one, he would offer them one if he had extra.
Anyways, the guy was cool and told Dad to come over. He gave him one of his Z-Flys, because his last name started with a Z. Very clever. This guy was catching a few and explained that you need to have it drag a bit on the bottom and that you could barely feel the fish suck it in. For some reason, Dad excelled at this. He caught a bunch with it, then went home and copied the pattern. He made thousands of these things.
Over the years, I would watch him go into a stream where everyone else had given up and catch forty or fifty fish. And he was right. There was a special touch to it. I could never master it. I would stand in the exact same spot and maybe catch two or three. He would be over where I was at and in a few seconds have one on the line. It was crazy. His friend used to say “Charlie can catch a fish out of a goddamn mud puddle.” Or he would also say “bah, fuckin’ Z-Fly, might as well use power bait.” Monk was a funny guy.
I am not a religious person and I do not believe in Heaven or anything like that, but I do believe that by keeping the deceased alive in our memories, then they are never truly gone. I miss Dad more and more every day, but these stories help me remember him.
