Why I Fish - and Why Everyone Should Learn to Do The Same

When I was young, my grandfather would often take me out in his boat on the Long Island Sound. We'd spend entire afternoons fishing for flounder, porgy, sea bass... anything that was in season that we could bring back home and turn into a fish fry for the family. Then later, I'd pick up the fishing rod again and catch snapper blues off the dock until dark. And i would never get tired of it. Cast after cast, fish after fish... I enjoyed every minute of it.

But then I got older, and things changed. Fishing mostly got put on the back burner through high school and college, as I focused on things like my grades, making friends, and political broadcasting.

Then came the pandemic.

In March 2020, I, like the vast majority of people on planet earth at the time, just wanted to get outside. I felt claustrophobic at home, and I remember just craving fresh air. So, for the first time in years, I went to my local reservoir in my hometown and went fishing. I didn't catch anything more impressive than a small catfish that day, but even still, something lit up inside of me. I felt I had rediscovered a long-lost passion of mine; like I was meeting up with an old friend again who put their arm around me and said "there's a lot going on in the world right now, but it's all going to be ok."

And from that day forward, I was hooked (pun absolutely intended). I purchased an inflatable boat that I could stuff in the trunk of my small Dodge Neon and transport to different lakes across Connecticut. In hindsight, that thing was a complete pain, and inflating it and then deflating it each time I took it out got old pretty quickly.

Later, I would go on to buy a real Jon Boat, and after that, my very first fishing kayak that I still use to this day. But honestly, looking back, it never really mattered to me what I was fishing out of. I made just as many memories in my $100 inflatable as I've made in my far-more-expensive motorized kayak. And some of the best memories, ironically enough, weren't even when I was holding a fishing rod; they were when I just sat there in my boat doing nothing.

Whenever I go out fishing at sunrise, I have a rule: no fishing allowed for the first ten minutes. It can be tempting at times - especially when the bass are busting topwater - but I never regret it. These ten minutes are my time to catch my breath; to remind myself of the things in life that really matter, and to forget, even temporarily, about life's challenges. Then, once the ten minutes are up, I start fishing.

For those who have never fished before, what's great about it is that it can be as simplistic or as nuanced as you want it to be. Want to just throw a worm on a hook and wait until your bobber goes down? No problem. Want to get more involved and pay attention to things like the weather, water clarity and the color or your lure to maximize your chances of landing a giant? Go for it! It completely up to you. It's your time and your experience.

And while you're sitting there, waiting for a fish to jump on your line, you're surrounded by nature. Swans gracefully passing you by. Birds chirping in the treetops. Turtles basking in the sun on a nearby log. For me, this is my happy place, and there's simply nothing else quite like it.

And this is why I would encourage everyone to try fishing at least once - because its good for the soul. It's an activity that lets you take a break from the world, reconnect with your true self, and reflect upon what really matters in life: faith, friends, and family.

Plus, there's always the chance that you'll land the fish of a lifetime, which for me, is always a nice bonus.