Fishing with the King

Being a child of the sea our lives ebbed and flowed with the tide. Each season brought forth nature’s bounty in different forms. Winter, tuna off the Canyon, Summer the running of the Blues, clams, and lobster. Autumn, Striped Bass weighing up to 40 lbs, but the most succulent fruit of the waters came in the Spring. The sweet meat of the Flounder and Fluke lay at our fingertips. Perhaps it was in our DNA or knowledge passed on by our ancestors, but we knew where and when it would be most profitable to cast our lines. At the tender age of eight and twelve my brother and I rowed our dingy nearly five miles to the Quogue Canal. Even at that age we were expected to contribute to the family. So, here we were the Quogue Canal. For those of you who do not know it I shall explain. The Southshore of Eastern Long Island is made up of two parts of the Great South Bay. In between these bays is a five mile strip of water measuring two boat widths. In this canal the tides pushed the Flounder and Fluke like a funnel leading into open water. This was pay dirt. The only problem being was that the properties lining this stretch were owned by the rich and famous. Knowing our manners we knew we must seek permission from a property owner to fish off their bulkhead. Because my brother was bigger then me and the fact that he twisted my ear I was elected to knock on the door. Slowly and cautiously I approached this mansion, and knocked on the door. What seemed like hours the door slammed open, I looked into the eyes of the owner and immediately prostrated myself on the ground before him. Hiding my eyes from him, this giant of a man, I heard his deep melodious voice say, ” For cryin’ out loud, stand up girl, I’m not gonna eat you!” As I rose my eyes widened in wonder, because standing before me was The King of Siam, Yul Brynner! After stuttering my request he told me to feel free to fish. I ran excitedly to tell my brother about the King and his permission. Of course he didn’t believe me, but at that point I didn’t care. Around noon, the butler came down to the water with sandwiches and tea on a silver platter and invited us to luncheon with Mr. Brynner. Then he appeared and sat down between us. The look on my brother’s face was priceless. So for the next hour my brother and I fished with the King. We baited his hook and cleaned the catch. We offered up enough Flounder for the Winter which the King graciously accepted. Until the day he died every Spring we would find the King on his bulkhead fishing. True story.