This angler's wife stands by her man

Twenty-eight years ago today, somewhere on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I turned to my bride of just a few hours and uttered eight words she still remembers today.
"I bet the crappie are biting at Mosquito."
It got decidedly cooler in the car. April 24, 1976, was a warm spring day. Puffy clouds in a blue sky, a gentle breeze out of the south, the air temperature in the mid-70s. Perfect for poking around in the flooded willows with a jig tipped with a lively minnow. But observations about the crappie prospects weren't what Barb in mind for conversation that day. Of course, I was thrilled to be starting a new chapter in my life, married to my sweetheart. But those words slipped out, not that I was wishing to be anywhere but heading off on our honeymoon.
To her credit, Barb didn't leave me at the toll gate after hearing my idle comment. She'd married an angler - for better or for worse - whose focus tends to wander to the water.
An understanding
How fortunate for me that she understood (and still understands) the allure of fishing. And over the years, we've enjoyed great times on lakes and rivers.
Our first major purchase as a married couple was a boat. We bought it before we bought a house, the result of a coincidental encounter with a boat show while shopping for shoes. I swear I had no idea that show was set up at the mall.
The old red tri-haul served well over the years. We often invited other couples to join our fishing trips to Berlin, Mosquito and even Lake Erie.
Barb was there for a big weekend at Berlin in 1977 when four of us boated more than 80 walleyes.
She was there when her college roommate reeled in a 6-pound walleye and again when the same friend -- eight months pregnant -- joined us for smallmouth bass and perch fishing in Ashtabula Harbor.
And once we had a youngster of our own, it was Barb who packed the canvas bag with toys and extra clothes so Betsy could stay busy and comfortable on our family fishing trips.
Our favorite lake became Milton in the first years after it was refilled following dam repairs. The largemouth population boomed in the rich new ecosystem and Barb and Betsy enjoyed chunkin' and windin' for the feisty bass. Mother and daughter often competed against each other and proudly posed with big grins for pictures with their bass.
Tolerated my trips
All the while, Barb tolerated my weekend excursions wherever the bass tournament schedule took me. She'd married an angler whose focus tends toward the water.
She'll tell you today, in fact, that while I may not recall her asking me to fix the faucet, I can tell you exactly what I used to catch a bass at Shenango Reservoir in 1991.
With her blessing, we moved up to a Ranger bass boat, though we faced the challenge of paying for Betsy's four years at Miami University. Now that's a woman who understands the allure of the lake.
Barb still enjoys a day on the boat, but today she spends more time on golf courses. I stopped buying her rods and reels so she can swing Big Berthas. Her competitive streak now works at coaching Salem High School's girls golf team, but given the chance, she still rejoices when her catch is bigger than mine.
Through all that has happened in the past 28 years, she understands an angler needs time on the lake.
So April 24, 1976, was more than a great day for crappie fishing. It was the best day in the life of a young man who loved the water. It was the beginning of a great partnership.
Happy anniversary, Barb. How about we go fishing this afternoon?
jwwollitz@aol.com