Spare the Rod and Spoil the Fishing

“Well,” FisherSpouse said instructionally, “You want to check flexibility.”

Standing under the arch of fishing poles that designated the store’s fishing aisle in case we otherwise couldn’t find it, Fishergarten watched as FisherSpouse pulled the tip of a rod steadily downward, creating an ever-narrowing bell curve of bendable graphite.

“Maybe you shouldn’t force…” Fishergarten started.

“No, it’s made to do this,” FisherSpouse said. “It has to hold a fighting fish.”

He pulled again, just slightly – and it snapped. Fishergarten and FisherSpouse stared at the disembodied tip.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t supposed to do that,” Fishergarten finally breathed.

“No,” FisherSpouse said testily, reaching for his wallet. “No, it wasn’t.”

To avoid buying any more unusable fishing rods, Fishergarten turned to Google for guidance and found this, this and this  -- plus her bible, “Fishing for Dummies.” Technically, she found, FisherSpouse meant to demonstrate the “action” of the upper “blank.” If Fishergarten is reading this right, the blank is the body of the pole and so named many years ago.

“I don’t know, man,” one Neanderthal said to another over a few beers and a campfire. “Let’s name it tomorrow. It’s late, I’m beat, and I’m just drawing a blank.”

The power is the force needed to bend the blank, and action is how far the blank bends. It looks more like a line graph than a bell curve, which is probably where FisherSpouse miscalculated.

Fishergarten then turned to an informal survey, asking "What is a good beginner fishing rod?":

FisherSis: “Semi-heavy for the lunkers and not too light of action. And don’t use my name in that blog thing you write.”

FisherSister-in-Law (FisherSIL): “Think of it as anatomy and physiology. The blank is the anatomy, the action and power are the physiology, but they need the reel or the heart to start. Okay? Oh, and don’t be using my name in that blog. Remember the cease-and-desist order.”

FisherSon: "Mom, I'm trying to work."

FisherDaughter and FisherDaughter-in-Law (FisherDIL), finally reached in faraway Twin Lakes, Colorado, an area with sketchy cell reception:  “Rod…reel… already strung.

Because Colorado

...Not … telescopic kind. … Don’t … names … blog.”

FisherDaughter may still be scarred by the previous summer’s Twin Lakes incident, when she hooked a rock while fishing off of a 10-foot dirt cliff.

“See mom, you just pull the rod to the side this way,” she demonstrated. “Then you pull it to the other side and try to work it loose.”

FisherDaughter jerked the line to the left, eliciting a sharp crack. In an inadvertent action, the top half of her telescopic blank sailed over the cliff and into the water.

“Hmm,” said Fishergarten, peering down as the waves lapped at the broken blank.

“It’s unfortunate, Mom,” FisherDaughter said briskly. “But it’s an old rod.” She cut the line, and the blank sank. Fishergarten made a mental note to check the executors of her living will.

Finally, Fishergarten settled on 5 feet 6 inches of gleaming pink Shakespeare graphite that she calls the 12.84 because that’s what she paid for it down at the Walmart. Handily inscribed on the blank are the words Action: Medium. Enough said, we think.

Next week, we’ll have some reel fun, but meantime, FisherFriends, use the comments section below to tell us about your first fishing rod. What did you like and not like? Let’s see some action and not leave this blank, okay? And as always, have fun!