By: Capt. Terry Fisher
Recently 1st Mate Vicki and I received the following letter from a ‘long-time’ client turned friend over the years. It is a heart-felt summary of our times together and encourages us to continue sharing our love of life and fishing with others. I hope all are encouraged by sharing the simple things in life that bring us together.
“Now we’re Fish-N,” Captain Terry said in his Southern drawl, grinning behind his shades. It was the first day we hired him over fifteen years ago, and I had no idea just how deeply entwined he and his incredible wife Vicki would become in our family’s story.
At the time, I was just looking to spend a day on the water. Maybe catch a few fish. Maybe reconnect with my father, which if I’m honest, was never easy. Our relationship could best be described as complicated, maybe even insane by some standards. You’ve heard the saying misattributed to Einstein: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” That felt like every father-son conversation we ever had. But something unexpected happened out there on Captain Terry’s boat: we started to understand each other not through words, but through fishing.
If there’s a secret to healing, to bonding, to building memories that last beyond lifetimes, it just might be fishing. I know that sounds crazy. But when I look back now, middle-aged and sentimental, the clearest, happiest memories I have with my father and my family all happened out on that boat. With Captain Terry at the helm and the Gulf of America stretching out before us, we found peace in the sound of the waves and joy in the tug of a fish on the line.
Out there, cheering someone on whether it’s your kid, your spouse, or a total stranger, you forget your differences. You just want them to land that fish. And if you’re from the cold, muskie-laden waters of Wisconsin like us, Florida fish seem like creatures from another planet. A pompano? Looks like a piranha mated with a UFO. A sheepshead? Has the same teeth my son had when he was four! I dare you not to laugh when you see one.
We once caught shark after shark on every cast, a memory etched into our family history like a legend. We shared in each other’s awe when a cormorant stole a fish right off the line. We watched the same pelican year after year, swore we knew him by name. We spotted sea turtles and dolphins, one with a chunk missing from its back, like a battle-worn alien.
And the manatees, God, the manatees. Like gentle, trunkless elephants, snorting like whales in hidden lagoons. How do you explain those moments? You don’t. You just hold onto them forever.
If you’re not into fishing, you’re still in for the ride. The Pine Island Sound, shallow, winding, weathered by tides and hurricanes is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Mangrove dots and sun-drenched skies. Cabbage Key cheeseburgers and cold drinks. Paradise, plain and simple. And it became our tradition every single time with Captain Fish Face leading the way.
But here’s what makes him different. He wasn’t just another fishing guide. Not when Vicki kept a pack-and-play on the boat just for our toddlers. Not when she said, “Don’t worry, we’ve got your son’s fishing pole until next year.” Not when Captain Terry picked up my frail, cancer-stricken father who could barely walk from a private dock on the far side of an island, just so he could have one more day on the water. That’s not guiding. That’s love. That’s family.
Now, my father is gone. But we still go back. We still fish. And every time we do, it’s not just a trip, it’s a homecoming. Captain Terry and Vicki aren’t just a part of the story. They are the story. They became the family we found through the lines we cast and the memories we reeled in.
And Vicki, when you drove out just to give me a hug after my father passed, I knew that had nothing to do with fishing. It was heart. It was humanity. It was family. Thank you both from the deepest part of my heart. If every guide could see their clients the way you saw us, the world would be a better, kinder, more connected place.
With love and gratitude,
Daniel O’Connor and the O’Connor Clan