Yesterday in the mid-afternoon, I began to write a post for this blog. I thought it was pretty funny. It was all about what happened after I posted the delivery pictures last week—the way George received word out on the Coast that the pictures were up, and how he made a dash for his computer, concerned that I may have written or posted something not quite in line with the operation.
I was going to write about how I chuckled at his needless concern and then relayed it to my dad, who laughed and said, “He doesn’t realize you learned from the best.” Of course, I wouldn’t give away fishing grounds, pounds caught, or price received. I know from seasons fishing for my dad in Southeast Alaska (along with my sisters) that the stock answer to any question about fishing is “Okay.” The fishing was okay, the price was okay, the spot was okay. No matter if you caught 100,000 pounds or 10,000 pounds, the answer is always “okay.”
I wasn’t able to write about it, though, because I ended up rushing my three-year-old daughter back to the doctor. As you know, she was recently treated for a serious case of pneumonia and has been ill since September. We have been keeping her away from children and groups as her immune system rebuilds, and I must say I thought we’d done a pretty good job of it and were out of the woods.
Not so. Without going into too much detail, our little one is not quite well and it will be some time before we know how it turns out. George took two days off from the Dungeness crab season on a sort of “emergency” leave to help us deal with the latest, but he will be heading back to sea again all too soon.
It’s been a learning season. I’ve never experienced anything quite like this, and I have been around the block a time or two. I want to give a shout out to each member of my fishing family, who has been amazing in the way of support, relief, help, and love. It’s nice to know that when one of us (or two or three of us) is down, the rest come around and help pick up the slack.