While I've gone along on fishing excursions growing up, I never really "fished." As a child of the city, I let my grandparents have all the fun. When we would visit, they'd take me along to catch a passel of catfish for dinner. Then, all the aunts, uncles and cousins would gather around the table for some - you guessed it - fried catfish and hushpuppies. My grandmother would sit at one end of the table watching each of us with an eagle eye. At the side of her plate, a string tried around a small mashed ball of bread was at the ready. That was in case any of us choked on a fish bone. She was ready to have us swallow the bread and string, then pull it back up to snag the bone that was supposedly caught in our throats - saving us from certain death.

The thought of going through such a life-saving process left us all in fear. To this day, I chew every bit of fish - regardless of what it is or where it comes from - v-e-r-y carefully.

Now that we're part of the lake-living crowd, it's time to pony up and get to some real fishing. I'm proud to announce my first catch - it was a good-sized crappie. The moment I realized there was actually a fish on the line was quite an exciting one. I do believe I paraded around for some time afterward. Here's my trophy.