Fishing can create a special bond for any marriage | News, Sports, Jobs

So April 24 has been a pretty big deal around the Wollitz house for quite a few years.

By April 24 most years, Northeast Ohio weather starts to settle into a reliable spring pattern of warming temperatures and enough rain to wet the roots of the flowers we expect to enjoy in May. By April 24, the trees buds are bursting and the bass are up in the flooded bushes to eat heartily as the spawn period approaches.

Everything outdoors is really revving up by the tail end of April.

One more thing about April 24: It is also the anniversary of the wedding of Barb Woods to this writer. Thank goodness she said yes before she realized I was hurtling on a collision course to a passion for fishing that was approaching how head-over-heels I felt about her.

There were clues, but she overlooked them. My early infatuation with fishing seemed pretty innocent in 1976.

I’d learned about the spring walleye run from Lake Milton up the Mahoning River past Shillings Mill to the riffles below Berlin dam. I knew the crappies got busy when the dogwood trees bloomed. I was aware largemouth bass were biting for the anglers who paid their day fee and rented a johnboat at Evans Lake. I had heard Lake Erie was miraculously producing limit catches of walleyes and Dad had just bought a 22-foot Starcraft capable of handling most of what the big lake might toss.

Barb knew I owned a couple of fishing rods and a green tin tacklebox handed over by my grandfather. She was aware I talked occasionally about plans for fishing trips here and there. It all seemed pretty normal. I suppose she factored in all of the little clues and decided, “What the heck. I’ll take a chance on this guy.”

April 24, 1976, was a bright spring day perfect for a wedding. The ceremony went off without a hitch. I didn’t stumble or tread on her flowing wedding dress skirt. The reception was a great party where everyone was beaming and imbibing and even my polyester leisure-suited buddies managed to behave.

Off we drove to start our honeymoon, Barb still unaware of her new husband’s entangled relationship with fishing. But somewhere on the Pennsylvania Turnpike east of the Donegal exit, I let the cat out of the bag when I mumbled a line that still echoes in Barb’s head to this day. She quotes me verbatim in conversations with friends about bonehead things their husbands have done.

“What a day! I’ll bet the crappies are biting at Pine Lake.”

Oops. I’d blown my cover. I was an angler in her husband’s clothing.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, honey.”

To Barb’s credit, she let it slide. She actually had a fondness for fishing herself, as she went with her mother, father and grandparents to Canada’s Port Rowan on Lake Erie in the late 1950s and early ’60s to fish for smallmouth bass. So she had a sense about why fishing is fun.

Fishing became pretty important for both of us, though it would be a year after our wedding before we bought a boat. Of course, Christmas shopping each year included another rod and reel for her. We planned summer vacations to fish Burt Lake and Indian River in Michigan, Lake Cumberland in Kentucky and Deep Creek Lake in Maryland.

Barb certainly recognized my passion for fishing had gained momentum, but she didn’t get in the way. How cool is she!

Fishing can be consuming for those who dive headfirst into the sport. It can strain a marriage.

I believe the spouse of an angler is really a pretty special person if he and she are able to make it work. At least that’s true in my case. We’ve made it work for 46 years. Happy anniversary, Barb!

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