Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
I took a tactical shooting class about a year ago. Midway through the classroom portion of the course the instructor described several different scenarios for the class and asked for our responses in each of the given situations. At this point my father gave me one of his answers in what he thought was a pretty discreet tone.
For those of you who don’t know Capt. Frank the Elder, up until recently he needed hearing aids, and when he thought he was whispering he was actually speaking at normal conversational volume. The instructor heard what my dad told me and stopped the class discussion altogether. I thought we were going to be reprimanded at best, thrown out of the class at worst. Much to my surprise, the instructor asked my father to repeat his thoughts to the rest of the class, prefacing this request with “When someone with gray hair, or in this case no hair and a gray beard, speaks, everyone should listen. They have been around long enough to know the deal.”
Since that day I have tried to follow the instructor’s advice. Or at least I try to give dear old Dad’s ramblings a little more consideration. After all, Dad has given me some doozies over the years. For example, he is convinced that auto manufacturers only put airbags in seven out of every ten cars. His rationale for this is that the odds are against the air bags ever being triggered and the car companies are willing to gamble and save the manufacturing costs. And of course, any time he hears about a car being in a fender bender and the air bag not going off he gets a twinkle in his eye and smirks in my direction.
Or his other grand theory about marine mammal beachings. Any time the news shows run a story about porpoises or whales getting stranded he brings it right to my attention. Most of the time you will see footage of some aquatic good Samaritans trying to push Willie and Flipper back out to sea, only to have their efforts thwarted when the majestic mammal makes a U-turn and heads right back to the beach. Dad’s thoughts on this one involve the shore-bound cetacean having swam near a bale of marijuana or cocaine lost by some sea going drug smuggler and getting a blowhole full of the intoxicating substance. Once under the influence of the drug the creature’s senses are a little screwy and they want to hit the white sands and get a tan. The kind hearted humans try to turn them away, and just like a bouncer throwing a drunk out of the bar, the whale wants back in! When have you ever seen a drunk take getting tossed from a gin mill kindly?
This past week there was some pretty good mahi fishing near floating debris and under sargassum weed patches out in the canyons. One of the most successful methods of catching the green groceries in these conditions involves backing up to the floats or the weed mats and using cut baits on light tackle. You can really get them going by tossing a handful of “freebies” at the school of fish before trying to fool them with hooked baits. Dad and I were watching Mr. Evans doing just that in the cockpit of the “Last Call” one afternoon and we began discussing the behavior of the mahi. Chris would throw a handful of diced up bonita and mackerel just a little past the prop wash and as soon as the pieces hit the water the mahi would scarf them right down. I looked at Dad and asked him if all fish thought that food just fell out of the sky.
Did they pray to some Sky God and think that this was their answered prayers? What were they thinking? Then when their buddies would eat a hooked bait and all of a sudden get yanked out of the water never to be seen again, didn’t the other fish wonder what happened to their pals? To me it just didn’t make sense. But then Dad put it all together. Now in case you forgot, Dad has no hair on the top of his head and his beard is completely gray. These features make his thoughts hold a high level of validity. Dad looked at me and summed it all up. Mahi (and other fish I would assume) were all put here by aliens. Or they are aliens. When the food falls from the sky and they get hauled up and out of the water never to return again, the rest of the school just assumes that they have gone back home to the planet Hippurus or wherever it is they came from. After laying this latest theory on me, Dad just sat back and smirked like he does when he feels that he has once again outwitted the rest of humanity.
I wonder what my tactical shooting instructor would think of this one? I mean he kinda liked Dad’s plan for getting a lost wrist watch or careless child out of the shark tank at the Baltimore Aquarium, which yet again, is another Fish Story for another time.
Capt Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call”, owner of Pettolina Marine Surveying, Inc. and multi-term President of the Ocean City Marlin Club.
