Now, I’m not one to normally get all gushy when talking fishing, unless, of course, I’m talking about the day I pulled in a 7-pound whopper on an area lake. Reminiscing about that feat still gets me a little teary-eyed.

With that said, my favorite fishing partner is my wife. We don’t get out too often, but when she comes out, I don’t even need to chase bass to have a good time. Until recently, we’d always bobber fished, because I thought this is what she expected of fishing.

One day though, she surprised me by saying she’d rather cast and reel in than bobber fish.

That was the day Mollie became my favorite fishing partner.

I imagine the consensus is split when it comes to guys taking their wives fishing. On one hand, there is something about going out alone or with the guys and talking fish, sports, hunting, whatever. On the other hand, there is spending time with your wife, relishing in her feats, talking, joking, but perhaps not much fishing.

Recently, Mollie and I took our son fishing for the first time — this was his first chance to use his Spider-Man pole with the light-up handle; the one he’d been practicing with since Daddy brought it home in April.

Mollie did most of the heavy lifting on this outing — chasing our 2-year-old, grabbing snacks, setting the hook for Tyler and prompting him to reel in the fish. But on one occasion, while I was busy working a Texas-rig under the bridge at Buckmasters, Mollie found herself in a fight with something big, and Tyler decided he’d rather watch from his Mickey Mouse chair than get tangled up with whatever had Mommy laughing so.

And she was laughing, and smiling, and fighting against a drag that was overmatched for what was at the end of the line. By now I’d reeled in and cheered her on, watching as the line zigged left, then zagged right.

After minutes of fighting, the fish finally tuckered. At the end of the line ... one ugly sheepshead.

Still, that ugly fish did nothing to erase the smile from my surprised wife.

Rapala’s leading lady
I got to thinking about women and fishing over the past few weeks after reading that Rapala recently inducted Marilyn Monroe into its Hall of Fame.

At first I thought this was a typo, but then everything became very clear to me. Through a chain of unforeseen events, a struggling fishing lure company caught a break and shared history with The Blonde Bombshell.

In August of 1962, Life magazine was set to run the article “A Lure Fish Can’t Pass Up” about Lauri Rapala’s original floating lure. Of course, after Monroe’s death on Aug. 5, the little lure company and its Life magazine article was read by every man rushing to pick up a copy with their dream girl on the front.

The popularity took the country by storm — some retailers sold their Rapala’s for upward of $25, and at resorts, even some in Minnesota, anglers rented the lures for up to $20 dollars a day with a $5 deposit.

This would never happen today, but because of the most unlikely of women, the company is one of the dominate tackle designers today — not to mention all the other stuff it produces as well.