Oh boy did I fall off the anti-modernist bandwagon Tuesday evening.  Let me explain.  I am conflicted about it, but I will share the whole story.

So its Caleb’s 8th Birthday, which for months now has included a camping trip to the lake with Dad.  Just the two of us.  And he wants to fish.  Now fishing and Steve go way back and the whole history is black.  In short…

There is my dad and I going out with a Zebco 202 and some worms on a hot afternoon, getting wet, worm-gutty, and really bored.

There there is my scouting troops and their penchant for this “sport” and I did catch some fish, including the one I snagged while practicing casting with an empty hook.  I was always better at catching frogs, it seemed.

Anyway, there is no history since I believe the time I was about 16.  I am now 46.  That is a major pile of years to have fishing lie dormant and then resurrect it for your youngest son’s desire.

We go to the bait store and get a thing of worms.  As we come to the register, the good ol boy says, “Try those green ones.”

It seems that “they” feed these worms special stuff that makes them glow bright green when they hit the water.  Really.  I guess the studies on how this green glow might affect the healthy consumption of said fish after eating such worms is still being done.  But my fear of not being able to give my son his vaunted experience overcame every loud voice in my saying, “that aint natural” so I bought the green ones.

They did glow brightly the next morning when my son awoke me at 6:30am to go fishing.  Fish did get fatter, and we assume glowed with satisfaction, after we lost all 12 to the lake.  But I did catch two small throwbacks and Caleb had one play with him.  And I am not sure, but I think he may be done with fishing and I am certainly done with “the green ones.”