The Outdoors… a Classroom, My Dad…the Teacher, and Independence… the Goal: The Lesson Learned on the Log

The boat puddered along the lily pads and I kept watch, steering left, then right, taking extra care not to hit a stump. I didn’t want our fishing excursion interrupted by damage to the boat and especially to the motor. Not to mention, it was my first real opportunity to guide, my first instance of taking folks out on Reelfoot Lake and putting them on good fishing—and I was 15. I had driven boats since I was seven and fishing even before that. I had “guided” my own father for a couple of years while he sat back, relaxed, and let me troll us around and put him on the fish. I had even taken some buddies out, some to fish for the first time, so I was forced to bait their hooks and pull off the bream. I knew the 20 square-mile lake, trolled up and down it for years. I had studied maps constantly and had ventured in and out of its islands, channels, and coves. So, my parents had no problem letting me take the boat out, even by myself. Frankly, I was way more confident on the water than I ever had been on land. Now I was guiding my high school buddy and his dad and they were anxious to get on the fish. I knew of a great spot that I hadn’t fished for a while, but you had to be real careful of the underwater logs and wooden stubs. And I heard the scraping, it started at the bow and worked its way under the center of the hull, I slammed the motor in neutral, and throttled down to guard snapping the propeller. The rubbing stopped but I could tell the front of the boat sat slightly higher in the water. We were on a stub, the top of an underwater tree and the point poked right in the center of the boat, like balancing on a pin. It was frustrating, I had watched so close, been so careful and now we were stuck. I put the motor in reverse and increased the throttle. The motor rolled and water pushed back around us, but the boat didn’t move. I grabbed a long paddle and tried to push off the bottom, but the muck gave way and the paddle sunk, making it impossible to get leverage. There were no cell phones for me to call Dad and have him come help, no satellite signal emergency device I could punch to alert some authority. It was just my 15 year-old-self and my “clients” and I had to figure out something because the boat wasn’t moving. All my life my dad had taught me, through the classroom of the outdoors, how to be independent, how to be calm and handle situations—how to be a man. We spent countless hours in boats, on piers, on deer stands, in the woods, and in duck blinds, and each instance brought with it a lesson or a particular skill that would help me in the future. Those lessons and that time in the outdoors gave me confidence and an ability to just figure things out. He took chances, let me venture on my own quite a bit, and those incidents formed in me an ability to problem-solve, persevere, and lead. The boat wasn’t moving, but I had an idea, I just needed a little leverage and we would slide off. I started the motor again and put it in reverse, then I gave it some throttle. Then, I ran from the back of the boat to the front, causing it to rock. I know I looked foolish, like a pacing tiger, but in a few seconds I could hear the rubbing again and we slid off the wooden trap. I stopped the boat and peered into the water, sure enough, just below the surface, the stub lay. We finally reached our destination and caught a ton. I brought our friend back to the dock and dad had the fryer all ready, the potatoes cut, and the hushpuppies formed and resting. I grabbed a bucket and a couple of knives and cleaned the fish. “Full Service!” Mr. Menietto exclaimed. We fried them up and had an incredible fresh dinner on the deck. Exceptions for the cooking, I handled the entire day and I didn’t even have a driver’s license yet. I led a fishing trip, got stranded, and was resourceful and calm enough to handle the situation. We returned safely and I served up the fish we caught to my friends, about as fresh as you can get it. Through years of being in the outdoors and being placed in situations where I would need to act, my dad had taught me independence, resourcefulness, endurance, and courage. Simply, he taught me to be a man, an adult, and when I married and moved out a few years later, although I was scared to death, I had confidence to handle what life threw at me. And ultimately, that is the “final product” we have to produce as parents—fully functioning adults, people that contribute to society and represent our name with distinction. Nevertheless, as I teach teenagers and observe college kids, I’m not so confident they’re ready. In fact, I’m shaken at their lifestyles. In our city, a place that’s been recognized by national magazines as one of the 10 best places to live in the United States, record numbers of teens and young adults use some form of recreational drug regularly (sometimes together). Kids I’ve talked to say they smoke pot because it helps them deal with the problems and pressures of life. They describe their futures as hopeless and scary and getting high relieves them of the stress. For others, pot is not enough and as I type this, I know of students I’ve taught and coached, who are now hooked on heroine or hallucinating on LSD. It seems much of their life is a fight to escape reality; social media drama and video gaming dominates their existence. They are savants in manipulating images, communicating quickly and in mass numbers, and problem solving on a video screen, and yet, most can’t even change a flat. They want life to be virtual, a controlled version of reality for reality is the monster hiding under their bed, and they keep that monster at bay by either recreating a new world on a screen or being so high they don’t even notice. This set of articles is a cry out to parents, particularly dads. Fathers have a unique power and ability to empower and teach their kids and the outdoors are an incredible classroom for all ages. You just need to get them out there, have an adventure, and see what happens. In the coming weeks I’ll be sharing some ways you can get kids in the outdoors and the powerful lessons they teach. They won’t be “how-to’s” per se, but encouragement and some basics on getting there. I hope you’ll read, enjoy, and feel free to ask questions. I’ll do what I can to answer them, but If I’m not sure what to do, I’ll do what I can to figure it out—because that is how I was raised.