I love stories. I love reading them, hearing them- which mostly due to my Father I guess, looking back on it now. HE was a story teller, as his Grandfather was to him. He would sit with my two younger brothers and I, reciting biblical stories, or telling adventures of growing up in Brooklyn in the 60’s and 70’s. He was always able to weave this colorful web as he spoke, feeding your mind perfect pictures and I remember being completely mesmerized by those tales. This is my fable about Redd Oktober, the pickerel who eluded me an entire summer, and the climactic end that brought about inner discovery that was so much more. In this fable the animals don’t speak, but are integral nonetheless.

This is my story, true as the ten fingers on my hand, about the summer of 2017- an epoch I will never forget. It wasn’t filled with the nievety of childhood innocence or anything like that; I’m in my 30’s and much too old for that nonsense. But I did find myself, though at the time I had no idea I was so lost.

I won’t get into the bad stuff, as negative things are best not dwelled on, but my life at the time was kinda like a virtual representation of a dumpster fire at Disney World. Its all fun and games puking on Space Mountain until a small fire breaks out in a back alley, engulfing a dumpster and all its contents- very inconveinent and costly. Now, I was quick to put out the flames, but some of the things- and people- were charred beyond all recognition and had to be discarded. I was angry, sad, and out of touch with the Universe for sure. My fiance, younger brother and I had been out fishing all summer, and I had a good 4 week stretch where I caught NOTHING. I mean I’m talking 10 hours on the boat twice a week, not catching a single thing while the boys slayed beside me, NOTHING. I’m a firm believer that you take in what you put out, and at the time I was a walking ball of anger and discord, deflecting positivity while stewing on the past. But I’m not stupid. I knew this bout of bad luck was caused by the discordance I was perseverating on, and I needed to make it right with myself before anything would ever change.

Did you think this story was going to be about a fish?? Haha he’s only part of it, a BIG part and we we are getting to that, but I need you to see where I was when I met him. Where I was in my head and in my life. I had just had a mental breakthrough- come to one of those proverbial crossroads, and for the first time in my life I actually stopped to check the signs before I proceeded. I stood there at that intersection, saw where I was and looked back at where I had been; nothing but blinding infinity for miles and miles. So I stood there a minute, and focused on myself for once. Thought maybe this time I could choose where I wanted to go. There was no one there but me you see, no husband, kids, family and friends telling me what to do, just me and those signs. I let my feet carry me on the wind, took a step, and then another. As soon as my feet started moving I felt lighter, better somehow and the steps came faster and easier. That weekend we already had plans to go fishing early, and I felt somewhere deep in my bones that this time would be different.

As soon as the motor started up I knew something had changed. My fingertips tingled a little and my palms were itchy as hell. I had been taking a lot of pictures the past few weeks, even though I wasn’t catching being on the lake is cathartic; so I snapped a quick one as we flew on the water. It was glass out there- we were the first ones on the water- and the boat coasted as if on air. We had dubbed one of our spots “Disappointment Cove”, because even though the fish would be jumping and you hook a fish or two, setting the line was impossible and they always got away. The spot was like a magically sanctuary for the fish, and where I met Redd Oktober for the first time. I hooked him and immediately my line went under; he was so strong the boat was getting pulled around as he tried desperately to get away. Slowly I would start to reel him in, and just as I’d make headway he’d take off again, drag zipping and line careening out. I did get him to break surface that day, finally giving me an opportunity to name my foe. His long mouth full of mean looking teeth covered my arms in goosebumps. I had been begging for a good pickerel fight since we started on the lake that year. They were a childhood favorite because of the fear they instilled when pulling them into shore and attempting to remove the hook- those suckers would bite. Redd took one look at the boat as he broke surface, did a spinning wheel kick with a reverse backflip and spat my lure clean out. I stood there stunned as I watched him swim off, rod in my hand smirk on my face. I vowed I’d get him on the boat by the end of the season; thus the hunt for Redd Oktober was born. Obviously right??

Here we are again, on that glass like water at sunrise on Labor Day. For us Cape Codders Labor Day signifies the end of our tourist season and the beginning of fall preparedness. We’ll have some good weeks, and they’ll be better because it’s less crowded, but it was the last day for me to put up or shut up. I waited for the sun to break and threw a rooster tail in. I’ve loved fishing my entire life, and the rooster tail is a nostalgic C. Savino specialty- a childhood favorite. I’ve got a few lures and spinners in my tackle box that are replicas of my old school secret weapons- the ones that helped me stand apart from my brothers because they were my good luck charms; my “go to’s” if you will. Now I know a rooster tail needs a nice ray of sunshine to make it work. You want the light cutting through the murk, bouncing off your gold or silver piece, making the rays flip and dance while the metal spins underwater. The fish were just waking up, and my lure was surely dancing on fire that morning.

I was slow to get my line out per usual. I’m constantly getting made fun of for having my pole out of the water while I stare at dragonflies, or the hawks swooping around the sky. Once I saw a heron snag a fish out of the water not 20 feet from the boat. I sat wide eyed and opened mouthed as he flew away with that poor fish, wondering WHAT was going through his tiny water clogged brain.

I could hear the whip of their lines followed by the “tick tick tick” as they threw them out and slowly reeled in. My first cast had come back to me, but I could see the gold spinning furiously as it came close to the boat, and the reflections cast by the sun on the gold. “I am one with the Force and the Force is one with me” I whispered to myself; a mantra taken from Star Wars which any like minded nerd will understand. I threw the line out again, and spun my reel twice before I felt a tug. Excitement was bubbling up inside me but I tried to remain cool. This was my first solid hit in WEEKS and I didn’t want to lose it before it got to the boat otherwise it wouldn’t count. Fish in the boat counts as one on the imaginary scoreboard, up to the boat does not. Science baby. I hadn’t made a sound at this point. I can hear the “ziiings” and “tick tick ticks” as the lines go in and out, but I’m barely breathing and neither have noticed. “I am one with the Force, the Force is one with me”, to myself now. Finally alerted to my situation the boys turn, while at that exact moment the fish takes off and dives, bending my pole into the water and partly under the boat. After a couple tries I get it up and in, realizing before it crests the water that it isn’t Redd, but a decent sized bass.

I was still thrilled. The bout of bad luck clearly was over; my chi was aligned and once again I felt back on the correct life path. I won’t bore you with the details of the rest of the day, but I caught many fish- two out of the top three biggest of the day. I was getting tired, but was happy and content with my days catch. We three agreed to hit up Disappointment Cove one more time before we left, as the biggest fish seemed to camp out there and we wanted a few more casts before we called it quits. “Just a couple more casts?” is the adult equivalent of ” five more minutes please Mom!”. Even though we had been on the water for over ten hours it still didn’t feel like enough time. It was hot that day, and by this time we were all down to bathing suits and bare feet, toes wrinkled by the wet floor. There was already another boat there fishing out near the mooring, so we crept in closer to shore. “Ziiiing tick tick tick”; out went the lines, and we reeled slowly, trying to stretch our minutes into eternity.

It was on my third cast he hit, and hard. Just BAM, right off the bat- I’m talking seconds in, like I threw the lure- the rooster tail lure- right on top of him. I still don’t know if it was a lucky shot, or the sun reflecting off the gold but he hit fast and hard, drag loose and line rocketing off into the great beyond. I fumbled for the dial, increased the tension, and slowly tried to finesse him into exhaustion by reeling him in and letting him take some line out. We danced back and forth, and when he finally came close to the surface we locked eyes. I jumped up screaming “IT’S REDD OKTOBER” to everything within earshot. I was jumping around the boat now, from the middle to the back to the middle again on my tip toes, wearing nothing but a Superman bikini and some sunglasses, completely oblivious to the other boat of fishermen attempting to fish. Laughing in spurts, repeating the “I am one with the Force” mantra, all while giggling and jumping on tiptoes we danced; I’d reel him in a little, he would take my line way out. Back and forth from front to middle to back, and then around again. Finally he lost strength, giving me the advantage, and as I hopped to the back one last time I pulled him to the surface, then thrashing and crashing to the boat. I got my picture, and Paul reached for the pliers to help aide our fingertips as we released him back into the wild. But Redd, tired of all the fun above water, performed his patented spinning wheel kick and once again dislodged the lure, landing him in… the boat. Still exuberant and hysterical from my recent battle, I giggled and squealed still dancing on tiptoes, shouting “watch out for his teeth! Get him but watch out they bite!!” while bouncing and darting from side to side until Paul was able pick him up and send him home. Shaking, laughing and thanking God, I looked up and finally noticed just how close we had drifted to the other boat during the scuffle.

There were men on the boat, no, not fishing- who could fish with such commotion and loud jubilee, but staring in our direction. Immediately my cheeks filled with color, and feelings of guilt came bubbling to the surface, as I had most certainly scared away every fish for miles during my epic battle. I turned to the men with open arms and hands up in supplication, and began spouting apologies in my signature rapid fire fast talk that is activated when I’m under duress. “Oh I’m so so sorry Sir, it’s just that was Redd Oktober, and I’ve had such a crazy summer and I’ve been hunting him all these weeks…” I began, standing there with bright red cheeks in my Superman bikini, embarrassed but veins still pumping with the thrill of the catch. I watched him quietly stand up staring, as he began to slow clap for me. It was the greatest feeling ever, to see this stranger standing there with an ear to ear grin, slow clapping because of my victory, and I know my embarrassed face beamed a smile that could be seen throughout the cosmos. I had come in and ruined this fishing spot for them, and yet instead of scorn he gave praises, somehow knowing the monumental importance of the catch. Thank you for the memory kind stranger, and I pray we see each other again, if only to laugh about my awkwardness. Heck, maybe he can give me some pointers on how to “quietly” land a fish without the entire Eastern hemisphere being privy to it. I will never forget that trip, how it was the end of a tumultuous summer which led to great introspection and self discovery- something I never would have experienced going through the boring monotony of life.

The bad days teach us, and the good days reward us. Thank God for both.