by Tracy Farr
All I want for Christmas is...
Dear Santa,
All I really want and need this Christmas is a fishing lure. Just one. And it doesn’t matter what color or size. Okay, maybe I need two – just so they can keep each other company.
You see, I recently discovered that I’ve become an old man without any fishing stuff, and I have no idea how that happened. No fishing lures, no bobbers, no hooks; just a beat-up old fishing pole with the string all kinked up, and I’m not even sure where it is.
In fact, I’m pretty desperate to have several new lures, and maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, a metal tackle box to put them in. Why? Because I don’t want to see the sad little faces of my grandkids (I don’t have any yet. I’m just planning for the future) when I have to explain to them that Grump-Pa (that’s what I'm going to call myself) can’t take them fishing. They’ll be devastated, and I don’t blame them.
“Grump-Pa, will you take me fishing today? Please? Oh, purty, purty please?”
“Well, Sport,” (that’s what I’m going to call my grandson – Sport), “Well, you see, Grump-Pa doesn’t have any fishing stuff. Maybe next time when you come over I’ll...”
Of course Sport won’t be listening. Instead, he’ll be mumbling something like, “I like my favorite grandpa better. You’re just a grump.”
Having a tackle box full of lures that a little kid can rummage through is one of the keys to being “The Favorite Grandpa.” But Santa, if you don’t fill my stocking with all kinds of lures, and throw that tackle box under the tree for good measure, I’ll never make it. I’ll just be “The Other Grandpa” for the rest of my life.
And by the way, since you can’t go fishing with just a tackle box full of lures, what would you say about adding a new fishing pole to my list? You know, to take the place of the one that’s all messed up, but I can’t find. It would just be too sad if my grandson came over and I had to tell him:
“Well, Sport, you see it’s like this: I was going to take you fishing, but I can’t find my fishing pole. I’ve searched this whole house up and down, but...”
Of course the boy won’t be listening. Instead, he’ll probably interrupt me and say something like, “You didn’t plan this ‘going fishing with your grandson’ thing very well, did ya? My favorite grandpa, he knows how to take me fishing.”
So, Santa, you can see I’m in a bit of a jam. I have no lures, no tackle box, no fishing pole, and if I don’t get started right away, I’ll just be a loser in the eyes of my rude little grandson. And you don’t want that to happen, do you? That’s why I’m thinking maybe two fishing poles and two tackle boxes would be better. One set for me, and one for the kid.
“Oh, Grump-Pa, you have a fishing pole for me, too? And a tackle box full of fishing lures so we can go fishing? That’s great! You’d be my favorite grandpa if it wasn’t for one thing. Where’s your boat? My favorite grandpa has a boat, and he takes me fishing in it all the time.”
Well, I know this is asking for the moon, but I don’t suppose you’d be so kind as to maybe bring me a boat along with those lures? It doesn’t have to be a big one – maybe just a canoe. Or maybe one of those blowup kinds. I don’t know, just something that will put me in the good graces of my future little ungrateful “I Want To Go Fishing With My Favorite Grandpa, And You’re Not It” grandson.
And if you do bring me a boat, it probably goes without saying that I’ll also need a depth finder as well as a trolling motor. I don’t want to fish on the water all day with the little brat and not catch anything, and I’ll need that motor to get me back on shore lickety-split when he starts piping up about how his “Favorite Grandpa” always knows where the fish are.
On second thought Santa, don’t bring me anything. All this talk about grandkids has put me out of the Christmas spirit. In fact, the only thing that could perk me up now is a brand new 52-inch plasma high definition television with surround sound and a yearly subscription to the NASCAR Channel. And I promise I only need one!
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