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# Sometimes a Man Just Needs to Go Fishing and Shut the Hell Up
- URL: https://rough-edges.ghost.io/sometimes-a-man-just-needs-to-go-fishing-and-shut-the-hell-up/
- Published: 2026-10-27T00:03:49.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-27T15:56:42.000Z
- Author: Joe Durst
- Tags: Tennessee Life

I had a customer ask me one time what I liked to do when I wasn't working.

Told him I liked to fish.

He asked if I did any tournaments.

Nope.

Asked if I had a boat.

Nope.

Asked what kind of fish I usually caught.

Whatever's stupid enough to bite.

Then he wanted to know if I had any pictures.

Jesus Christ, buddy. I'm trying to tell you I like fishing, not apply for a position with Bass Pro Shops.

I don't have a twenty-thousand-dollar bass boat. I don't own seven fishing rods that cost more than my truck payment. And I don't know the scientific name of every goddamn fish swimming around in Tennessee.

I've got a couple of fishing poles, some tackle, and a pretty good idea where I can go without having to listen to anybody run their mouth.

That's all I need.

And some days I don't even need the fish.

## I've Heard Enough People Talk for One Week

You work construction long enough, you'll develop a pretty strong appreciation for silence.

I deal with people all week.

Most of them are fine.

Some of them ought to be required to pass a written examination before they're allowed to speak to another human being.

I've had customers stand there watching me work and explain how they would've done the job.

I've had people ask if I could make a deck bigger after I've already framed the goddamn thing.

I've had somebody tell me they watched a YouTube video and couldn't understand why I was charging so much when the fellow in the video finished his project in twenty minutes.

Well, why the hell didn't you hire him?

By Friday afternoon, I've usually heard enough opinions, questions, suggestions, and unsolicited advice to last me until the following Wednesday.

I don't want to go anywhere crowded.

I don't want to go sit in a restaurant.

And I sure as hell don't want to go somewhere that requires making conversation with a bunch of people.

I want to find a little stretch of creek, throw a line in the water, and mind my own business.

You'd be surprised how difficult that last part seems to be for people to understand.

## Tennessee's Got Plenty of Places to Disappear

One thing I do love about Tennessee is you don't have to go too far to find a decent place to fish.

I'm not talking about some fancy resort or a lake full of boats that cost more than most people's houses.

Give me a little creek.

Some rocks.

A few trees.

Maybe a spot along the bank where I can sit my ass down without sliding into the water.

I'm happy.

I don't particularly care if the fish are biting.

I've spent entire afternoons sitting beside a creek and come home without catching a goddamn thing.

And somebody will always ask the same stupid question.

"Catch anything?"

Nope.

"Well, that sucks."

No, it doesn't.

I had a perfectly good afternoon.

I didn't have to answer my phone. Nobody asked me for an estimate. Nobody wanted to know if I could come look at their porch. And not one person asked me what I thought about something they'd seen on Facebook.

Sounds like a pretty successful fishing trip to me.

I think some people have forgotten that you can do something just because you enjoy doing it.

There doesn't have to be a trophy.

There doesn't have to be a photograph.

And there sure as hell doesn't have to be some grand accomplishment at the end of it.

Sometimes I go fishing and catch fish.

Sometimes I go fishing and feed worms to fish that apparently have no intention of getting caught.

Either way, I'm getting what I came for.

## Don't Bring Your Goddamn Bluetooth Speaker

I went fishing with a fellow once who brought one of those little portable speakers.

We hadn't been there ten minutes before he pulled the damn thing out.

I asked him what he was doing.

Said he thought we'd listen to some music.

Why?

We're sitting beside a creek.

There's water running over rocks. Birds making noise in the trees. Wind blowing through the leaves.

And this son of a bitch thinks what the place really needs is somebody singing through a plastic box.

I told him to turn it off.

He looked at me like I'd asked him to sacrifice his firstborn.

"What, you don't like music?"

I like music just fine.

I also like a quiet creek.

That's why I drove to a quiet creek.

If I wanted to hear music, I'd have stayed in my truck and listened to the radio.

Some people just cannot stand silence.

They've got to have something playing.

Something talking.

Something beeping.

Something making a goddamn racket.

I don't understand it.

There's enough noise in the world already.

You don't have to haul more of it into the woods.

## Apparently You're Supposed to Be Productive Every Damn Minute

Here's another thing that gets on my nerves.

Everybody's got an opinion about how a man ought to spend his free time.

You work all week, and then somebody wants to know what you're doing with your weekend.

Tell them you're going fishing, and half the time they'll ask if you've got some big trip planned.

No.

I'm going fishing.

"Well, you ought to take pictures and start a YouTube channel."

No, I shouldn't.

"You could probably make some money doing that."

I already make money.

That's what I spend Monday through Friday doing.

I'm not looking for another goddamn job.

It's like people can't stand the idea of somebody doing something without trying to turn it into a business.

You like woodworking? Start selling furniture.

You like cooking? Start a food channel.

You like fishing? Get yourself some sponsors.

You like sitting on your porch drinking coffee? Somebody will probably tell you to start a podcast about it.

For fuck's sake.

Can a man have one thing in his life that he doesn't have to monetize?

One thing he does just because he wants to?

I spend enough time worrying about money.

I don't need to figure out how to turn a Saturday afternoon beside a creek into another revenue stream.

The fish don't have any money anyway.

Cheap bastards.

## I Wasn't Always Good at Doing Nothing

I'll admit something.

I've always been one of those people who has a hard time sitting still.

There's always something that needs doing.

If I'm not building somebody else's deck, I'm looking around my own place finding something to fix.

There's grass to cut.

Tools to put away.

Laundry.

Groceries.

Some mysterious mess Tucker swears he had absolutely nothing to do with.

And I can find enough shit to keep myself busy from the minute I wake up until I finally go to bed.

But I got to thinking about something one day.

What the hell am I working so hard for if I never take any time to enjoy myself?

I mean, think about it.

You work your ass off all week so you can pay for a place to live.

Then you spend your entire weekend working around that place.

Then Monday comes, and you go right back to work.

Keep doing that long enough and pretty soon you're fifty years old wondering where the hell the last twenty years went.

And what have you got to show for it?

A nice-looking lawn and a bad back.

Congratulations.

I'm not saying you ought to sit around all day with your thumb up your ass.

I'm saying sometimes the grass can wait.

The truck can wait.

That little project you've been meaning to get around to can wait.

Unless your roof's leaking or the toilet's overflowing, chances are the world isn't going to end because you went fishing for a few hours.

And if it does, I suppose somebody can come find me down by the creek.

## Tucker Thinks I'm a Little Strange

Tucker's a teenager.

Which means sitting beside a creek for three hours without catching anything probably sounds about as exciting to him as attending a seminar on proper gutter maintenance.

I understand that.

When you're young, you want something happening all the time.

And I don't expect him to enjoy every damn thing I enjoy.

He's his own person.

But there's something I hope he figures out as he gets older.

You don't have to be entertained every second of the day.

You don't have to have your phone in your hand all the time.

And you don't have to be doing something just because everybody else is doing it.

Sometimes you can sit somewhere and enjoy the fact that nobody's bothering you.

That's not being lazy.

That's being smart enough to know when you've had enough.

I want the boy to know how to work.

I want him to know how to take care of himself.

But I don't want him growing up thinking he has to run himself into the ground to prove he's worth a damn.

There's enough people out there doing that already.

And half of them look miserable.

## You Don't Have to Tell Everybody Everything

I don't understand this obsession people have with taking pictures of every damn thing they do.

You go fishing, and apparently you're supposed to photograph the water, the fishing pole, your boots, the sky, the trees, and whatever sandwich you brought along.

Then you post it all online with some bullshit caption about finding inner peace.

Inner peace?

I went fishing.

That's all.

I don't need to turn it into a spiritual awakening.

And I don't need three hundred strangers telling me how beautiful the scenery is.

I know it's beautiful.

I'm sitting there looking at it.

Some things ought to be allowed to happen without an audience.

I don't need to tell everybody where I go.

I don't need to show everybody what I catch.

Hell, sometimes I don't even tell people I went.

I just go.

And when I get home, if somebody asks what I did that afternoon, I'll tell them I went fishing.

If they ask what I caught, I'll tell them.

If they ask why I didn't take any pictures, I'll probably tell them to mind their own business.

## Sometimes the Best Part Is Not Catching a Damn Thing

There's a little moment I like when I'm fishing.

Usually happens after I've been sitting there a while.

The line's in the water.

Nothing's biting.

I've quit checking my phone.

And I've finally stopped thinking about whatever aggravating bullshit happened at work that week.

I'm just sitting there.

Watching the water.

Maybe I'll hear something moving around in the brush.

Maybe a fish will jump somewhere out in the creek.

Maybe absolutely nothing will happen for twenty minutes.

And for once, that's perfectly fine with me.

Nobody needs anything.

Nobody's asking questions.

Nobody's trying to sell me something.

I don't have to fix anything, build anything, explain anything, or listen to somebody tell me how they'd have done it differently.

I can just sit there.

And I don't need anybody telling me that's good for my mental health or that I'm practicing mindfulness or whatever the hell they're calling sitting quietly these days.

I'm not practicing anything.

I'm fishing.

Or at least I'm pretending to.

And after a week of dealing with people, that's about as much excitement as I need.

So if you see my truck parked somewhere along a back road in Tennessee, do me a favor.

Keep driving.

I'm probably having a pretty damn good afternoon.

And if you happen to know where the fish are biting, you can tell me some other time.

Right now, I'd rather not be bothered.