There was a time in my life when I fished all the time. Before work. After work. Weekends. Summer. Winter. You get the point.
That began to change when I moved back to the Cities. And that really
changed when I had kids. Priorities change, but I couldn’t be happier.
Now, spending several days preparing for a fishing tournament, and then
eight hours fishing in it, doesn’t seem near as fun as spending a couple
hours in the boat with my 3-year-old.
At the same time, some things never change. Fishing always has been an
outlet. And as much as I love my family, it’s still important to get
away. Refresh and recharge the batteries. Some people go to Las Vegas,
or concerts, or sporting events. I go fishing (or hunting).
While I may not hit the water every morning anymore, there are some
traditions that endure. Case in point: My annual ice-fishing trip, from
which I recently returned. It began in college, includes five college
buddies and myself, and will be 15 years old next year.
For some people, it’s hard to believe sitting in a cramped, cold fish
house with five others for 48 consecutive hours could be fun. But it is.
There’s a reason this trip is a priority, and it’s not because of the
fishing. Certainly, we’ve caught our share of fish. But we’ve also been
to some pretty cool spots, including Lake of the Woods, Red Lake, Cass
Lake, and Lake Mille Lacs. There have been years when we’ve caught
painfully few fish (this year at Red Lake, for example), but the chatter
already has begun about next year’s 15th anniversary trip.
Some years back – probably during the fervent email chats that begin
months before we depart – our group formally named our little
get-together. It’s called the TOAL, which stands for trip of a lifetime.
Kind of silly, for sure, but that’s what, in many ways, it’s turned out
to be. Every year, on its own, is fantastic. But when you consider the
sort of tradition it’s become, it really is the trip of a lifetime.
Even as the six of us have moved, changed jobs, gotten married, and had
kids, we prioritize the weekend and plan it sufficiently far in advance
that everyone can get away. It’s not an easy thing to get everyone’s
schedules to mesh, but, to date, it’s always happened.
That’s what tradition is about.
And a cool thing has developed over the past couple of years. All of our
wives – or soon-to-be-wives – have gotten together the weekend we’ve
been gone.
Last year, the six wives got together for happy hour in Minneapolis, an
evening for which one drove from Grand Forks, and another drove from
Fargo. This year, the wives made a weekend of it, too, and met in
Alexandria for a trip to the spa. They’ve even given it a name – the
TOAL Wives’ Weekend. I hope, for their sake, it’s a tradition they continue. Otherwise,
they’ll be stuck home alone at least one weekend every winter, because
our trip, which began as an idea over beers in our college dorms, isn’t stopping
anytime soon.