I have always admired and respected our nations veterans.  They give and sacrifice so much for all of us. I grew up with veterans; my father, who served in Vietnam, his father (my grandfather) who served in the European theater during WWII, and my mother's father, who served in Korea. For the most part, they were reluctant to discuss their exploits. But now and again, they would share some of their experiences. Usually the lighter side of military life, and their silly exploits.
I learned about a lot of those experiences while out on fishing trips, mostly with my father. My father would get together with some of his friends and head out in Carl's boat. An old tri-hull. We often fished the Delaware Bay. I loved fishing with my dad, and to be invited along with his friends was always a treat. They would goof around, talk about work, wives, and a variety of other topics that guys discuss. But at times, the conversation would turn to feelings about their experiences in Vietnam.  Or dealing with the VA. Or nightmares.  They'd laugh, yell, and once in awhile, even cry. Carl had some really exciting stories. He was a door gunner in a Huey. He saw and did things beyond what any man should be asked to do. They all did. But they did their job, as was often stated. What I learned from these outings at an early age was that fishing can be a powerful tool. It can help you to open up, share, discuss, and heal. And these grown men sharing their pain, frustration, fears, trials, accomplishments, and more, showed me the value of talking to one another. The power in exposing your feelings, even when it hurts, and allowing yourself to heal, little by little.
My father and I fished together often. From Carl's boat now and again, but mostly from the local jetties, groins, beaches, and sod banks. I miss our conversations. The funny stories. The shared moments between father and son. I will never forget those moments we shared.
As I neared my graduation from high school, I began looking into going into the military. I visited the various branches trying to decide which branch would be the best fit. I really wanted to fly. I had the ASVAB score, but there were no guarantees. When my father caught wind of my intentions he told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to join up. He stated that he would break my legs while I slept to make certain I could not join. I was to attend college, and make something of myself, as he put it. So, I listened.
We continued to fish through the years. I became a teacher. I decided along the way to get my charter, OUPV, license. What better way to spend the summer than fishing and getting paid for it?
As a charter captain I have taken thousands of people out fishing. You show them how and where to fish for various species. You share all sorts of stories, and hear all sorts of stories. It's probably one of the best jobs out there. It's never dull, boring, or bad. But every now and again, you get someone who comes along and touches your soul.
In June, 2020, I had a back to back charter scheduled with Troy and his family. The first day we went out on the boat. The following day we fished the surf. Troy was a super nice guy, down to earth, and very inquisitive. He asked loads of questions regarding how we were fishing, why we did certain things, and so on. I love people like Troy, as I love sharing my passion for fishing with others.  Both days he gave me exorbitant tips too, just struck me as odd. We had a really nice time on both trips and parted ways. Troy left a glowing review on one of my booking services. Then, a few days later I received a call. Troy thanked me for showing him the beauty of fishing. For giving him an experience he had always dreamt of. And, for saving his life. I was blown away. Troy went on to explain that he suffered from PTSD. He struggled daily. He had been driving an armored personnel vehicle and drove over a mine. It was a miracle he survived, as he was badly wounded. But, in the explosion, he lost several of his brothers. He felt that he cheated them by surviving. He had planned on rectifying that over the weekend, after fishing. He brought the gun with him. By the grace of God, our little fishing adventures changed something in Troy. Maybe the magic of those early fishing trips followed me. Ghosts of the past sharing that healing power. Regardless, somehow I helped to make a difference in Troy's outlook on life. The beauty, mystery, and solace that only the ocean can offer worked it's magic and saved a beautiful life. This event changed me. It opened a new door of opportunity. I know as a teacher I have touched lives. I have had students tell me so. I always took that in stride. It was part of the job.  But this experience with Troy really struck me to my core. I wanted to help. To make a difference. I wanted to share the magic of fishing, the ocean, with those who have given so very much to us.
I ran a few trips with other organizations. They were always fun, and I met some wonderful veterans. But I knew I could do better. And so, I started Hook, Line, and Warriors. I have brought in some extremely dedicated and dynamic individuals who's passion for this mission are equal to mine. Troy is onboard too, and hopes to eventually get his OUPV license, and run trips for Veterans as well. Together we hope to get veterans out fishing so that they may heal; mentally, spiritually,  physically, and emotionally. Rekindle bonds, share in the camaraderie, and get involved. We have a long way to go. But we are off to a great start. And we are looking forward to every adventure in front of us.
We will never stop until all of our veterans are able to reel in calmer seas...