98 Years Young | Fishing Blog

98 Years Young

Written by Paul S.

In honor of the man that nurtured the love of fishing in my family, I felt it only right to start this post with a shout out to my Grandfather who turned 98 yesterday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRAMPA!!! I'm pretty sure this picture is from the early 50's. The marlin were definitely biting that day in Mazatlan. My Grandfather would sometimes hang around with some unsavory fellows.

They were the poster children for the anti catch and release campaign of the day. The guy trying to hide in the back (who will remain unnamed) got bored with watching my Grandfather (that suave fellow in the white T-shirt) battle that beast in the front. Well, before the marlin had given in from exhaustion my grandfather was forced to reel in a dead fish. "Why," you ask? Because that freaky, bored dude shot it with his pistol. If you look closely you may even be able to see an exit wound or two. Not the guy you want to go fly fishing with.

I met up with my parents, my grandfather, and his girlfriend for a little birthday brunch. Yup, you heard me right, he has a girlfriend. It was her birthday the day before his. Gramps is a cradle robber! Its scandalous I tell you... she's only 88. What's really funny is to hear them talk about the home they live in. The social environment sounds exactly like how I remember high school.

We ate, we laughed, and we learned... a lot... too much, in fact. You see, Grampa's moll let us know that her youngest son recently published a book. "No kidding," i replied. Unbeknownst to us all, he is a sex therapist. A published sex therapist. So, over lox and bagels I got to learn how to keep the magic alive in the sack when you are an octogenarian. (Nonagenarian in my grandfather's case.) Check please. (If you really need this info, shoot me an email and I'll give you the skinny.)

Now, my extended family has lived near the Pacific Ocean in Southern California for decades. My brother and I, and my father before us, grew up ocean fishing. Several years back a dear friend, who I owe heaps of gratitude, took me fly fishing. I am the sole fly fisherman in my family, or so I thought. It was a few years back when Gramps confided in me that fly fishing was perhaps his favorite kind of fishing. I never knew he had ever even cast a fly rod. Yeah, he's a pretty cool cat.

I asked him what he thought of people who might read this and disapprove of his lifestyle and younger girlfriend.