Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days
Casting a line across three generations
By Michael C. DeMattos
Kane'ohe resident
I built my first fishing pole last week, and I must say that I am rather proud right about now. I am an avid fisherman, and I spend many hours on the weekend fishing for papio, halalu, lai, o'io and kaku. Like many fishing enthusiasts, I have amassed quite a collection of fishing poles and fishing reels. I also have a ton of lures that are great at catching fishermen but lousy at catching fish.
Being a good angler is no easy task; there is so much to learn. But I have had a bunch of great teachers. One of my mentors is Brian Kimata. He owns a small, well-stocked tackle shop in town. Brian is a great guy who has been telling me for years that I should build my own rod. He shared that I would save a lot of money, which my wife would like, and I would have the pride of fishing with a rod built by my own two hands.
A couple of months ago I gave in. I bought all the components: blank, guides, reel seat, grips, decorative threads, epoxies and resins. It took a couple of weeks and over a dozen calls to Brian, but I did it. Brian said that it was one of the best first attempts he had ever seen. He said that I had learned an important skill.
I must admit that I find myself ill-equipped when it comes to skills necessary for living in the new millennium. I am lousy at managing time and remain baffled by most technology. Now, rod-building will never turn up on a list of important skills to have for the new-world man, but evidently I have it. And it fits, thank you. I am a man of seasons and tides. I like watching clouds part as the sun issues out. I like a full moon on a starry night. And I like the feel of a fish taking line as I wrestle him to the surface, completing a relationship began long ago. I suppose none of these would count as modern skills, but they are important to me.
My dad was a fisherman who built his own fishing poles. He is now in his mid-70s and does not fish very much anymore. But we used to fish all the time. I don't remember catching much, but that did not matter to me. I loved being at the beach, and I loved being with my dad. I was the official sand turtle catcher. They are not actually turtles; they are a type of crab that live under the sand. My job was to fill the bucket so that we could cast them out as bait. O'io love sand turtles.
When I got older, my dad gave me one of his poles. I used it a few times, but high school called, and that meant reading, writing, dating, and sports ... not necessarily in that order. The pole hung in dad's house, slowly deteriorating. I don't know how or when, but somewhere along the line, it got thrown out. I remember that pole. It connected me to my father.
My 4-year-old daughter watched me build my fishing pole, and it dawned on me that I might have formed a memory and connection with her that runs along the spine of that pole. For people like me who attend to the tides of sea and emotion more than the hands of a clock, that fishing pole is a bridge connecting me with both my father and my daughter.
Perhaps she will cast her own memory back ... later, when she is my age. For now, we will go fishing, and she will live in the moment. She will become the official sand-turtle catcher. O'io still love sand turtles. And maybe — just maybe — when I am old, she will tell her own husband about the time dad spent weeks under the glare of the kitchen lights building a fishing pole. And it will connect us. I learned an important skill.
Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days is a column of essays by readers on what makes Hawai'i unique. Send articles two to three pages long, double-spaced, with your address and daytime phone number, to: "Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days," The Honolulu Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; e-mail to islandlife@honoluluadvertiser.com, or fax to 525-8055. Articles submitted to The Advertiser may be published or distributed in print, electronic or other forms.
