The other day while going through some boxes of old papers, I found a number of old fishing tackle catalogues from the 1950s. My father probably sent away for them when he was thinking about buying a new cane fishing rod.
It’s funny how the catalogues managed to survive the years, while the actual products did not.
I still have my father’s Orvis Battenkill fly rod, but alas, most of the flies and lures that were purchased were lost to fish who, let’s just say, were better than the angler on the other end of the line.
Going through those old catalogues sure brought back a lot of memories.
The following day, while checking for information about a solar panel battery charger for my electric trolling motor on the Internet, I discovered that a couple of those old catalogues are now worth a pretty penny – not that I would ever consider selling them. They are, at least to me, worth a lot more than mere money.
Now, I don’t want anyone to think that I’ve become one of those people who spends all their time on the Internet. It’s just that there’s so much information available online. You can research just about anything you want.
The hard part is absorbing all that information, never mind actually making up your mind about anything.
By the time you have decided on one model of this or that, they’ve changed models and there’s a newer, better, upgraded or improved version available.
If you can’t find the newest version of something on the Internet, you are bound to find an older version of it for sale on e-Bay.
Now there’s a whole brave new world – especially for people with too much time (and money) on their hands.
Checking out stuff on E-bay is more dangerous than having an itchy nose at a used car auction.
Having said that, every once in a while, I do like to look at online sites describing all-inclusive fishing trips to exotic places like Belize and New Zealand.
I know I’ll never be able to afford to go to any of those places in a thousand years, but it doesn’t hurt to look – and maybe dream a little.
I can just picture myself in one of those fancy new angling kayaks they use down there, cruising through the bright blue waters along Belize’s barrier reef, casting my line to tarpon and bonefish.
After a hard day’s fishing I could head back to my cabana, pour myself a long, tall, cool Kahlua and cream and put my feet up. And then I could just sit there and think about what I may or may not feel like doing the next day, or the day after that – mañana o pasado mañana.
I can almost hear the waves, taste the salt air and feel the warm ocean breeze on my face.
It’s almost like being able experience going somewhere without ever having to leave the computer. And that, in a nutshell, is what’s wrong with the Internet.
The difference between the Internet and reality is pretty much the same as the difference between an Internet ‘surfer’ walking along the beaches of Cuba and say, Ernest Hemingway who did actually walk along those beaches.
At least he got off his butt and did things for real, instead of vicariously through websites on the Internet.
So I think I’m going to get off my butt, go into the kitchen and pour myself a Kahlua and cream. Then I can settle back into my La-Z-Boy chair and re-read those catalogues. I can almost hear the waves, taste the salt air and feel the warm ocean breeze on my face.
I wonder what catalogues Hemingway looked through when he ordered fishing tackle.