Here are some great clips of the Kinks from the 80s to listen to as you read or simply to watch... as you wish! The one above you probably do not know, but the two below you could not have missed.
A Fish Tale
I love to fish. I used to have a friend who lived here named Lo. We were fishing buddies. One day we took her two sons to fish off of the tugger dock . As soon as we got there, everyone picked their spot and marked their claim to space. Then we set about getting the poles ready.
I glanced over at An, as he played with a large lure. He held it up to show me. I smiled and nodded but thought in my head that was a pretty big lure to catch anything here. It was a green and yellow thing with two three hook dangles on each end.
There are a lot of river weeds where we were at and I wondered how long he would have his lure before it was tangled and had to be cut free or his line broke. But I didn’t say anything. Some lessons are better learned the hard way. I paid attention to my own pole.
The sun was shining and a cool breeze was coming up off the water. My hair kept blowing into my face, so I grabbed an old beat limp Red Sox hat out of my gear box and popped it on my head. Satisfied, I baited my hook and cast out. The line sailed in a beautiful arc right to the exact spot I’d chosen. There is something sublime about a perfect cast. I reeled in slightly and then sat on my box to wait.
One of my favorite parts about fishing is watching the water. I like the ripples from the breeze and the way the sunshine zig zags across it. I was watching this light and water show when something tugged at my cap. Instinctively I put my hand on top of my head.
I didn’t want to lose another cap if the wind blew it into the water. I sure wasn’t going to go in after it.
Something stung me through the cap! Then my head jerked to one side. Again. As I turned, it dawned on me that An was having a hard time with his line. Clearly it was snagged. A sharp pull at my scalp told me his line was snagged on my head!
HEY! I said, still holding my cap to my head. “An…you’ve hooked my head!”
He was wearing ear buds. He could not hear me.
I yelled at his mom, who took the situation in faster than I could explain it. She ran over with her needle nosed pliers and nipped the line, setting me free.
“Hold on… I’ll get it out.” She said. When ordered, I sat back down on my box and endured the tugging and twisting.
“I can’t see what I’m doing for the cap.” She grumbled. Ten minutes later she gave up.
“We’ll have to go to the hospital.”
I should tell you that An was horrified. He apologized all the way to the hospital which is two towns over and across the river. He apologized the entire time we waited for the doctor. Once the doctor arrived and began to prod my head, An wrung his hands in dismay. He truly felt awful.
The doctor went through every tool he had with no success. Two of the hooks were embedded in my skull, all the way through the scalp to bone. I will tell you that it did not hurt. It felt like something pulling at my skin, not comfortable but not painful. Eventually the doctor did manage to clip the hooks off so that the cap could be lifted carefully off of my head.
I now had two metal prongs sticking out the top of my head. The doctor cut the hair around it away. Now there was a nice look… I had a bald patch on the side of the top of my head for several weeks. Ha. He deadened the scalp with shots, cut slits where the hooks were settled and tried to pull them out again. No luck.
The doctor tossed the last of his shiny sterile tools into the metal pan and swore. He then marched to the phone and called for the janitor.
The janitor arrived with his tool box, peered at my head and said. “I’ve got just the thing!”
He pulled out a set of snub nosed pliers and with a quick twist pulled out the first hook. He grasped the second hook and moment later and I was hook free. The janitor smiled as I thanked him, tossed his pliers in his tool box, flipped the lid shut and hurried away.
“I hope you plan on splitting your fee with him.” I told the doc. I got two stitches. One stitch for each hook. An was still apologizing when they dropped me off at home. Poor kid. It was much harder on him that it was on me.
I'm going fishing today. Unfortunately, An and his mother will not be with me. An passed away suddenly a few years after the tale above... his lure sits right here next to me on my desk. When I developed mental constipation in regards to this post, I saw the lure and thought I'd tell you about the day that An caught my head. :)