The Difference Between Men And Boys Is …

Sep 22, 2009 by winjaw

The price of their toys, at least according to a rather well-known adage.

But what happens when you factor in a girl?

In one corner, the Sons of Thunder, a couple of their similarly aged male cousins,  their dad/my brother, “Pops” (granddad) and your truly. And we are armed with the latest/greatest fishing tackle and gear you can get.

We’re talking some of the best fish-killing armaments available – American, Japanese, heck I can’t even spell some of this stuff.  Fish tremble at our names, especially with the five boys with testosterone  as deodorant. Okay, sorta.

And in the other corner, my 10-year-old niece. With a three-foot fishing pole (this was not a rod), which was plastic. With Cinderella stickers. And pink.

The arena was the boat dock and crappie were the target.

And within a short time, my little niece Megan pretty well slapped the man out of those boys. Not only did she catch the biggest, she caught the second and probably the third biggest.

And her total number was pretty darn close to everything the Sons of Thunder and their cohorts/cousins could put together.

But let’s not stop there. No. Let’s have her catch a friggin catfish just for one more little slap down. A nearly 5-pound catfish. On a three-foot pole, made of plastic, with Cinderella stickers on it. And it’s pink.

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And yes, Megan, I want my “Fish Tremble At The Sound Of Mine Name” t-shirt back.  After I find my manhood.

One girl, excuse me, one young lady, against a horde.

It often seems that way, despite what we’re told by advertising, marketing and the never-ending quest to have the best – and more of it. A simple fishing pole takes the cake.

Hey, I love my toys too. You’ll never find me without my Blackberry. And it serves its purpose. But for taking notes, I never have found anything better than what my father-in-law used to use: a stubby old pencil and some paper. No reboot time.

And I love my fly rods, and all my other fishing gear – all top of the line. But they got smoked by a pink plastic Cinderella fishing pole.

Maybe it’s not always the stuff that matters. Maybe sometimes it’s who’s behind the stuff.

And maybe, sometimes, we need to sit back and really determine if we need all that stuff.

Excluding the  fly rods and Blackberrys of course.