[posted to AM 7/10/04 -- TR]
INMF
I have two nephews and nine nieces. The nieces, as I've bragged ad
nauseum about in past missives, are universally gifted with
extraordinary intelligence tempered with a willingness to try new
and different things without too much external coaching. My two
nephews, OTOH, are Dork Jr. and "It's Not My Fault [INMF]."
Let me take this opportunity to introduce INMF as a member of our
troupe, the Traveling Rangerovs.
I spent the entire weekend of the 4th in INMF's immediate
vicinity. I got to see him pull many stunts (often boneheaded,
always brain-dead) and, with complete conviction of Teendom behind
him, follow up the inevitable conclusion of said stunts with,
"It's not my fault!" One after another event would cause him
physical or emotional (most often both) pains. One incident,
though, caused me direct pain. Here is how it unfolded.
I'd invited the group of kids to go fishing. I am an avid
freshwater fisherman and have been since super8 cameras (1966)
were available. I had brought up enough fishing poles for everyone
that I'd hoped to include in the expedition. My three
daughter-units (Alpha, Beta, and Spawn) were champing at their
bits, itching to hit the area I'd scoped out the night before. I
told the assemble crowd that I would be awakening them prior to
dawn's first light. We would then hoof it on down the hill to the
shore, and that with any luck, everyone would land at least one of
the lake's more feisty inhabitants, crappie, before we came back
for breakfast.
Goodnights wished, and whispers whispered, I retired with the rest
of the adults to map out my plan. SWMBO was the most leery,
knowing that I would not have much patience with Spawn in tow, but
withheld her negative vibes for a more private "I told you so"
finger-wagging.
The next Ay-Yem arrived cold and clear. The crickets were still
performing their 5th and the bullfrogs were matching them in a
natural harmony. I slowly and quietly got all the kids up. Many
begged off (in particular my three) but the blood oaths they'd
sworn the night prior were enough to bring even the most stubborn
out their warm bags and into the early dark. As we waited for the
last to join us outside, I quietly supplied each hookless outfits;
from my adequate supply I matched reel-and-pole to each
individual. With everyone finally outside and holding their pole,
we walked (herd-like) the mile to the shore.
I'd decided the previous night not to pre-rig anyone's poles
before getting down to the water because that allows Murphy into
the equation too early. The eleven of us reached the shore without
incident. (I only had to remind them a couple of time that many of
the locals would not share our pre-light joy, so singing and
shouting '99 Bottles of Beer On the Wall' was not good and
therefore should be kept to a minimum.) The length of shore I'd
chosen was gravelly and slightly sloped with a diving ledge five
feet out.
I set everyone up in "their" areas and asked them to wait for me
to come by to set them up.
From my belted tackle box, I efficiently produced lures and
bobbers for everyone and in typical assembly line fashion got
almost everyone ready quickly. The fish were splashing and jumping
adding to everyone's excitement. There were many "Did you /see/
that?!" hissed from along the shore.
Spawn was first in the line. She squatted beside me, holding the
miniMaglite rock-steady, never wavering. "Why you do that?" she
asked as I stretched her line two feet and added a boober.
"Well. You want the fish to see the lure but not be scared by the
bobber. The bobber's so you know if you get a nibble."
"Pretty wiggle."
"I'm hoping it's pretty enough to get you a bite," I smiled. "Do
you remember how I taught you to cast?"
"Uh-hunh. You take it and then." and she pantomimed a graceful
cast sans pole.
"Excellent. Perfect." I was very pleased and if I'd had feathers,
I'd've been puffing them out in display. I moved on to the next
niece and on down the line asking similar questions and answering
the same questions Spawn'd asked.
Five minutes later, I ended up down at INMF. He was casting rocks
into his area so I asked him how he thought he was going to catch
fish if he terrified them prior to casting his first line in. "Oh.
Yeah. It's not my fault."
I smiled and asked, "Really?"
"Yeah. I was just."
"Throwing rocks."
"Yeah but it's really not my fault."
I smiled and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Hand me your pole."
"Okay. I'll hold it for you."
"I've got a better idea. You come down here and watch me tie the
jig. If you get hung, you won't have to wait for me to replace it.
You can do it yourself."
"'Hung?' What's that?"
I wasn't quite prepared for this question. I just stared at him
like he'd just sported a rhino's horn from between his eyes.
"Sorry. It's not my fault."
"It gets tiring hearing that phrase. Try something else." I
suggested snapping out of my boggling haze.
"What?"
"'It's not my fault.' If you can't think of anything else, don't
say anything at all."
"What?"
I looked up from my knot tying and stared hard at him. "Did you
really mean to ask that?" I whispered.
"No."
"Then stop it already. Are you watching what I'm doing?"
"No."
I closed my eyes and mentally ticked off a 10-count. This was
going to be a fun morning. "Then I need you to focus. I need your
undivided attention here at my hands. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Then please watch." I undid the work I'd started and threaded the
lure again. "To start with, you thread the line through the hook's
eye, like so. Second you pull some extra through to make a
nice-sized loop, pinch up here, and spin the lure seven times.
Count with me."
"One. Two. Three. Four. Seven."
I stopped spinning the lure. "Five."
"Oh yeah. I lost count. Five."
I spun it again and waited. "Six?"
"Seven."
"INMF. Do you want to fish today? If not, I have nine other
WILLING fishergirls going and asking for my help. You're fourteen
years old. Don't [censored] me off anymore. I'm not nurse-maiding you."
"Yes, Uncle. It's not..."
"Don't!" I warned holding up the lure with my finger extended.
"Now. We're on 'six' and we need seven twists. We do _seven_ for
strength and the way the lure will lay in the water correctly and
set when the fish takes it. Now, with the extra line, bring the
end down to the first twist and the eye and run it through that
little loop. Bring it up and now through the bigger loop. Pull the
lines up and down to close the knot..."
"I got a fish!" screamed Daughter-unit Beta.
I prairie dogged in D-uB's direction and saw her reeling in like a
demoness.
"Pole tip up! AHHHHH!!"
Unknowingly, I'd kept the lure in my hand to trim the excess
waste-line when the commotion drew my attention. My nephew, much
to my physical pain and mental annoyance, in his overly excited
state, grabbed the pole up to start casting - while I held the
line. Said lure - sure enough - did just what I'd promised; it
embedded itself through my extended finger perfectly. My resultant
cry of pain immediately caused INMF to drop the pole in alarm,
which also added a new wave of pain to my now-throbbing extension.
As I held my finger and forced myself to look at it, I heard INMF
screaming while running in circles waving his arms in the air. I
quickly grabbed the pliers from my belt holster and trimmed the
barbed hook. Sliding the shank back through the twin
entry-and-exit holes, I pinched them closed and reached into my
pouch for a handiwipe. I stood up and, injured finger firmly
enclosed in the handiwipe grabbed my nephew with my free hand.
"Stop! Stop. Look at me. Now. Screaming and yelling is helping no
one. You're scaring them." I nodded to his younger cousins who
were now staring at us with just a little fear. "I'm fine for now.
Settle down and come with me. I'll need your help."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Fine. Just come with me," I said and spun him about to where I'd
dropped my backpack of extra gear and coffee. "See that? Go get it
and bring it down here."
"But..."
"Now. I need something from it."
"It's not my fault."
"Fine. Bring..." I ignored and whispered again, "Bring."
INMF was standing looking over at D-uB's fish. Eight other girls
were also gathered about her, me (luckily) forgotten in the
excitement. I scrambled up the hill and grabbed INMF's shoulder
and spun him back about towards the pack. "I was serious. I need
your help. NOW."
"It's."
"Don't. Not. One. Word." I hissed. INMF was looking at me. The sun
was just coming over the mountains which, as luck would have it,
was just coming up over the mountains behind my back. Looking
every bit the axe murdering psycho he was imagining me I'm sure,
he audibly clicked his mouth shut so nothing else would issue
forth. "INMF. Here. Sit. Hold this," I said pressing a Maglite
into his hands. "Hold it so I can look at my finger."
"That's disgusting!"
"Yes, it is. I don't need stitches but it's going to be painful
for a few days," I said nonchalantly. The searing pain from the
handiwipe was being erased by the shot of adrenaline coursing
through every inch of my body. I popped the lid to the Neosporin,
squeezed a generous amount into the twin holes, ripped open a
bandage and wrapped it tight. "Come here."
"No. It's gross."
"I need you to come here. Please," I ground through my teeth and
the forced smile on my face. "You won't have to touch the blood.
Just rip me some tape strips. Here. I need three - three to four
inches. Got it?" I flipped him the roll of cloth tape.
"It's gross."
"You said that already. Just rip me the pieces." The first throb
pulsed through my thumb cutting through the adrenaline rush like
butter. "NOW!" I grimaced.
Again, my axe murderer's look came in handy and he deigned to rip
me the three strips. I taped my finger up and was focused on not
tangling the tape or spinning the salve-soaked bandage about my
finger when I caught some movement. I looked up to see INMF
heading back up the road and away from our group. "Where do you
think you' re going?" I asked. Nine heads spun about noticing we'd
not rejoined them.
"Back."
"Not by yourself you're not. Get back here."
"I don't wanna fish."
"Fine. Sit here on this bench. But you AREN'T going back."
"Yeah I am, Uncle [Ranger]."
"Mom wouldn't like that," INMF's sister volleyed from the shore.
"I'll only repeat it one more time. If I stand up, you'll regret
it boy. You are not going back yet. I don't give a flying...."
"Daddy!" Daughter-unit Alpha warned.
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. When our eyes met,
he knew the conversation was over. "Sit! There." I pointed to the
bench.
INMF sat down on the bench. I turned to the group and looked at
them. "Does anyone wish to go back now?" Silence. "Alright. Back
to your areas and cast out your lines. Everyone catches one before
we head back." I turned to INMF. "You can still try and catch one
but you're going to have to tie the jig."
"I just wanna go back."
I shrugged and slid down the shoal to the nine girls casting and
reeling.
"That's not a choice," I turned away, letting it hang.
Lady Luck was with almost everyone that morning. Seven of the nine
girls caught a fish; five crappies, one bluegill, and a small
mouthed bass. (Spawn and D-uA waited until the night we left to
catch theirs.)
The girls' excited chatter as we trudged back up to the cabin
announced our coming long before we'd arrived.
INMF ran ahead.
I could barely hear his staccato report "It's. Not. My. Fault."
through my pounding headache and pulsing finger.