Trying to convey to others what it is to be a commercial fisherman, or even more difficult, to be a commercial fishing family – is near impossible.
Unless they are in the business themselves.
It requires patience and a certain amount of forgiveness.
Only other commercial fishermen really want to talk about fishing. A lot.
Comparisons can be made. It is somewhat like being a military family (without the fear that mom or dad is going to war). Yet, distinctly different.
Fishermen like to pride themselves on being independent.
For those raised within the fishing fleet, it is either a source of great conflict or great surrender.
Conflict. Being on land is a conflict. For those born to the sea.
(Vice versa for members of a fishing family that are extroverts and have trouble chillin’ at sea).
My best buddies in the fleet worried about me, when they knew I’d be spending time on land raising kids. The image needed to be gentled up. Considerably.
Everyone reinvents themselves throughout life.
Becoming a responsible parent, putting my commercial fishing identity on the back burner for years, was necessary.
I found it much harder, being at home raising the kids while my husband was at sea, than living and fishing on a boat for months at a time.
At a kid’s birthday party, just the other day, a mother asked me if I’d be bothered if she and some of the other parents cussed, not in front of the kids. Like mild-mannered Clark Kent, I just smiled, and reassured her I’d be okay with it.
I said I was a commercial fisherman (as if that would explain everything). Told her we try not to cuss in front of the kids at home or on the boat. Told her I had to shape up my language, a lot, when I became a mother.
As a commercial fisherman, cussing just seems to be a part of the way of life. Depending on the company. (Note: My mother fished for years and did not appreciate cussing. Much). It takes a conscientious effort to repress the impulse to talk in a blue streak. Especially when the conversation turns to fishing. Good days on the ocean. A great fishing trip!
It is the independence that draws people to commercial fishing. The ocean is the last wild frontier here on earth.
The very strain that allows me to be a fishing partner with my husband, without coding partners or crewmen, is not very mild-mannered. The same holds true for my husband. Imagine two fiercely independent souls being married!
We both have to work hard, very hard, at being flexible.
To not just give in to the ease of a commercial fisherman identity. Or lifestyle.
I like knowing I can do other things too. I don’t like the notion of being dependent on any one identity, lifestyle, or occupational choice. I like the freedom of being able to reinvent myself.
Truth be told, though, I was born to fish. Raised within the fleet, I learned to compete with the fleet.
Fishing is in the blood.
So, when the youngest child is out of earshot, at home, this is the tune that gets cranked up. Don’t listen to it if cussing bothers you.
https://soundcloud.com/aknatural/picture-me-trollin
It’s where I plan to be this summer. On the back end of a boat (if not exactly a wood double-ender).
Trolling!
And yeah, if you listened to the words of the song, I’ve caught one. A “65 pounder, shiny as chrome”. We trollers live to catch those big Kings.
Commercial fishermen.
We live to fish. And fish to live.
Integration 