Boys & Girls,
I came across this little ditty, that I originally wrote for the RISAA newsletter, while I was weeding out my documents and thought maybe someone would get a grin out of it.
One For The Mrs.
You May Be A……
By
Capt.Thom Pelletier
Just about everybody is familiar with the routines of stand-up comedian Jeff Foxworthy. He’s the guy of “You may be a Redneck” fame. Most of his one-liners are quite amusing and many maintain an exaggerated thread of truth to them. With that spirit in mind, I’ve worked up a little rant of my own.
My spiel is directly related to the lovely, patient and understanding women that we fishermen have been lucky enough to be hooked up with. The life of the bride of a true sportfishing junkie can be and frequently is a trying experience.
In the case of the casual fisherman, the ability to be reasoned with, in most cases, is still viable and pretty much in tact. This ability is often severely diminished in the genuine fishing nut. The result for his wife is the weighty task of maintaining a relationship with an individual who is, for all intents and purposes, possessed.
I’ve arrived at a term for these loyal and dedicated ladies and although not all that flattering, it is, nonetheless, definitive. That moniker would be, as lame as it may sound and with no offense intended, a “Fisherwife”. If you recognize any or all of the scenarios I’m about to present, ladies, you may already be one or be well on your way to becoming one. Please read on and see if any of the following threads ring a bell:
If your husband will routinely spend more time explaining why the weekend would be better spent fishing by comparison with, say cleaning out the garage or basement, than it would actually take to CLEAN OUT the garage or basement,………… you may be a Fisherwife.
If you already know that your husband’s suggesting “a quiet night of quality time spent watching our favorite TV shows together” translates to another re-run of “Fishing New England” while he ties bucktail jigs and you do the crossword puzzle,……… you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband’s entire summer schedule, including vacations, social events, and holidays is dictated exclusively by the tide, the moon phases and the progress of the Striped Bass, Fluke and False Albacore migrations,………………. you may be a Fisherwife.
If more and more of your Tupperware is winding up in the freezer containing a vile and noxious goop that’s been tagged with a label bearing the name of what appears to be some foreign diplomat; MENHADEN CHUM,……………. you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband can hear the soft sip of a Striped Bass inhaling a freshly spawned sand worm 200 yards away yet fails to detect your plea for assistance with a sticky can opener from the very next room,…………….you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband spent more time yakking and picking apart the inaccuracies he’d perceived in the movie “The Perfect Storm” than you got to try to follow and analyze the love plots developing therein,…………………you may be a Fisherwife.
If that little white carton in the fridge that you believed to be fried rice thoughtfully reserved for you by your husband turns out to be thawing sea clams,………you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband has no problem filtering through the stomach of a Striped Bass to see what stinky, disgusting, half digested creatures were on the fish’s menu yet feigns being “grossed out” at even the thought of being asked to remove the bagged innards from the Thanksgiving turkey. ……..you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband is the picture of energetic vitality with a glowing twinkle in his eye at 4 A.M. who degenerates into an immovable lump that can barely hold his head up through the six o’clock news after a day on the water,………you may be a Fisherwife.
If you notice that an inordinate number of your cherished Christmas Tree ornaments have been displaced by “old and Cherished” surf plugs with the treble hooks removed, ……You may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband can shamelessly justify owning 25 fishing rods and still refer to your rather modest shoe collection as ridiculous and decadently excessive and could conceivably jeopardize the kids college fund,…you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband will travel 10 miles out of his way to save 3 cents on a gallon of gasoline yet doesn’t blink an eye at the price tag flirting with 4 dollars per at the marina pump,…………….you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband can eat a sandwich with the same unwashed hands with which he just ladled out a gallon of 3-day old chum and cleaned a clogged fuel filter yet repels at the though of cleaning out the drain trap so you can all go back to brushing your teeth in the BATHROOM sink again …you may be a fisherwife
If your husband can rattle off every convoluted color that his favorite curly-tail grub is available in yet wouldn’t recognize the color mauve if he fell over it or the color fawn if an actual fawn kicked him in the head,……you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband returns from a fishing trip wreaking of sun-baked squid ink and fish slime and his only response to your provocative new perfume is “Hey, what the hell smells in here”…You may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband often struggles to remember the most important dates in your lives (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) yet could recite the date, time of day, stage of tide, bait used and what he was wearing when he landed his first 40 pound striper even from within the depths of a coma,…………………… you may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband can deliver every line from the movie “Jaws” as though he had directed it himself but couldn’t stay awake passed the credits of love stories like “Titanic” even at gun point,……….You may be a Fisherwife.
If your husband can rationalize $45,000 worth of boat, $5000 dollars worth of gear and electronics and $2500 worth of boat slip as an efficient and practical means of providing sustenance for his family,………………….you may be a Fisherwife.
And there you have it. But if you can identify with any or all of these scenarios, ladies, don’t despair, you’re not alone. I, for one, am convinced that it’s the fortitude and understanding of you long-suffering Fisherwives that is the glue in so many long lasting Fisher-marriages. Anyway, God bless you and thank all of you special ladies for tolerating our many quirks and antics and allowing us to pursue our second favorite passion. Second, of course, to you.
My wife says it would be funnier if it didn't so accurately describe her life!!!!!!!!
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