As we were heading Home from Thanksgiving weekend, my phone beeped, it was a text from Dad.
“Huh.” I said.
“What’s up?” Annie asked.
“Dad texted me, he wants me to give him a call when it’s convenient. I’ll give him a call after we’re home, unpacked and settled.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“Winter Is Coming.”
“Ha Ha.” Game of Thrones reference aside, for northerners this is a real thing. When the first taste of the cold season is in the air, a flurry (Get it? Flurry?) of activity starts kicking in with us. We need to get ourselves locked down and ready for the cold to come. For the next several months we’ll be buried and frozen, things need to happen before that sets in. I began thinking about all the things that Dad might need some help with: It’s been a few years since there was any roof work, maybe put up the snow fence to keep those pesky deer from eating his evergreens, winterize the mower and swap it with the snow blower, maybe put a bunch of crap into storage. I’ve been helping my Dad with these chores since before I had adequate muscles for said chores. Back then it was called “paying my rent” as he affectionately patted my shoulder. These days, there’s no “rent to pay”. I’m just a son helping his Dad out of Love. I stared at the calendar, my own schedule was actually looking pretty fluid. Lyd would be in school and chances are Mom’s already agreed to keep an eye on Reggie. Annie broke my train of thought, “What’s the calendar saying?”
“Lyd’s got her Lego thing on Tuesday, other than that, we’ll be putting up the Christmas tree. That’s it really.”
“Great! Let me know what day you’ll be out there.”
We arrived Home, and got ourselves settled. I gave Dad a call (I usually budget extra time when calling Dad, we have a tendency to chat.)
“Brooks!”
“Hey Dad! What’s up?”
“I was wondering what you’re doing Tuesday.”
(Yep, pre-winter chores) “I’m looking pretty free on Tuesday. Why?”
“Well, the boat has not been taken out of the water yet” (Holy crap, the boat? This late in the season? Okay….) “And Tuesday is looking like it will be the warmest day this week.” (Warmest day…Oh. Maybe something’s wrong with the boat lift…ugh. I hope he has extra waders.) “And the fall fishing trip was canceled this year, and we only went out fishing once last summer. So your brother and I were thinking…let’s go fishing on Tuesday.” (Uhm…It’s nearly December. He wants to do WHAT???)
“Fishing?”
“Yeah, let’s go fishing. It’s been a pretty warm autumn, the lake isn’t frozen. Let’s have one last hurrah before packing it in for the winter. What do you say?”
“Uhm…I take it Mom can babysit?”
“Of course.”
“Then…yeah! Let’s go fishing!”
“Great! We’ll hammer out details later, when you can be out here, etc. Get back to getting the girls in bed, I can hear them in the background.”
“Sounds great! Love ya Dad.”
“Love you too.” (I’m digging this “retired” version of you Dad!)

Fishing—my family’s most beloved and honored pastime. Some of my earliest memories were formed on a boat, with my Dad. Boats are a natural habitat for McGrath men. This has been a frenetic year, it has been so frenetic that I only managed to log on maybe six hours of fishing with my Dad and Brother this year. After that conversation with Dad I began thinking that maybe this has been “that thing” that has been missing all year, possibly the reason I’ve been a little on edge, a little agitated.
Yes—I need to be on a boat casting a lure with my Dad and Brother again. This was a great idea.
Flash forward three days…hmm. Let’s make this idea just a little less than great. Those warm temps were not due to arrive until afternoon and the winds were gusting.
Winter is coming.
But not today…
Let’s do this.
We fought through white caps, frigid lake spray and a wind that made every drift an incredible accomplishment. We all wore our fur-lined bomber hats and we all cracked ourselves up for having such good taste in clothing. We told bad jokes, we found a couple of undiscovered spots. We talked about life, we admired the two red tailed hawks dancing in the air. We bitched about that one eyesore of a house that was ruining what was once a perfect view. We marveled at a gigantic dead carp floating in the middle of the lake. As we moved on, the seagull returned to it, cursing us for interrupting its lunch. I told Dad his new depth finder was pretty cool (it is pretty cool!). We watched Dad muttering to himself as he worked loose a snag. Eventually the wind let up, the lake calmed down. She allowed us to enjoy her for a little while before saying goodbye until spring.
We did not catch a single fish.
And it was incredible.
Thank you Dad…I needed that. But I don’t think I need to tell you that. I think some little part of you knew I needed that.
So…another thank you. For being my Dad and simply knowing.