Fishing for Carp

a Saturday story

“Do you know how to cook a carp?” My Uncle Ivan asked. He knew I didn’t know, so, not waiting for me to suggest an answer, he continued, “You nail it to a 2X4, throw it on a fire, and when it is good and black you take it off the fire, remove it from the 2X4, throw the carp away, and eat the board.”

He wasn’t a fan of carp. I have repeated Uncle Ivan’s wisdom to others over the years. You’d be surprised how many times carp becomes a subject of conversation in a man’s life. When it does, inevitably someone will, with all seriousness, tell you, “you can pressure cook them and”… That’s all I know about that because I tune them out at that point. I refuse to be an apostate from Uncle Ivan’s anti-carp faith. In our cult, there is no good way to cook and eat a carp.

My disdain for those tiny-lipped, scum-sucking fish is not all due to Uncle Ivan’s carp catechism. Tony played his part too. You might remember Tony from a previous Saturday story. He was a friend of Dad who also stayed with us a few times when the folks would take trips away from home.

One Saturday I was with Tony in his little truck on the way home from town. I don’t remember why I was with him or what we were doing in town. What I do remember was what happened on the way home. It was the kind of thing that gets seared into a boy’s mind.

We were passing casually over a bridge that crossed a small creek and Tony was gazing out the driver’s side window and looking down at the water. Suddenly, he sat up straight, and without saying a word, jerked the truck to the side of the road, came to a dead stop, turned the motor off, got out, and ran down the embankment to the creek.

My curiosity was naturally piqued at the sudden commotion. Wondering where Tony had gone and why, I got out and walked over to the edge of the bridge to see what was going on. Down by the creek, Tony had found an old board. It was a 2X4 about four or five foot long. Seeing how Uncle Ivan had suggested a 2X4 in his carp recipe, I believe this must have been serendipitous; another carp-shaping moment in my life. Anyway, Tony was standing ankle-deep in the water and swinging this 2X4 like an axe, violently striking the water with it.

I was curious before but now, for a brief moment, I was a little concerned for Tony’s mental state. Then, the whole scene came into focus and began to make sense. Tony paused his assault on the water, picked up a fish, and slung it towards me. A large carp landed with a thud on the road near where I stood. I looked at the dead carp, and then back down at Tony. He was slapping at the water again. Soon, another carp came flying up, and then another.

After four or five successful carp-slaying efforts, Tony came back up to the road and said, “Let’s go.” We got in the truck and without looking at me, he said to no one in particular, “I don’t like carp.”

If you want to know how I came to view carp with disgust, this is it.

{Saturday Stories are a break from the Scripture based daily devotional. Sometimes there is a moral to the story and other stories are just stories.}

Photo by Worachat Sodsri on Unsplash