Fishing For Trogdor

What is value? How would one define value? In a world where everyone is concerned about the economy and money and having the biggest gas guzzling cars credit cards will allow you to buy and pay for later, what matters? It makes me wonder if people know what value is.

I wake up to my dad’s voice. “Wake up, lets go.” He said. I looked at the clock, its five thirty on Saturday morning. I get up slowly and get dressed. I see my dad is making an omelet in the kitchen. The smell of omelet is swirling through the house. It smells like heaven. I am eating my breakfast and my dad says “were going fishing.” My dad hardly ever goes fishing with me and I thought it would be fun. I like to fish and I don’t usually fish with my dad so it should be good.
I grabbed my fishing pole and tackle box and get in the car. “Where are we fishing?” I asked. “We’re going to Lithia Springs. It’s an old reservoir for district two of South Hadley. A guy I work with says it’s filled with fish. He goes there all the time and catches a lot of fish.” He said to me.
We drove to seven eleven and bought some worms so we could do some old school fishing. We pulled up to a gate in the woods. The sun was just about to rise and the sound of birds filled the air. I look around, there is no lake. “Hey dad, where’s this lake.”
“I guess I forgot to tell you that it’s about a half hour walk to get to the water. It will be worth it though.” Said my dad. For the next half an hour my father and I talked about many things. My dad told me about old fishing stories and stories from his childhood. I thought it was very interesting to hear about my dad caught a 2 foot long frog on his fishing pole.

Before I knew it we saw a sign nailed t a tree that read “Reservoir” and it had an arrow pointing up a path that took a left turn. My dad said “well the water must be that way kido”, and I said in a sarcastic way “really, you don’t say”. He replied “Don’t give me lip boy, or I’ll smack you a good one”, and we had a jolly good chuckle. We both knew he was joking because my dad would never smack me.

As we approached the water we started getting attacked by a swarm of blood thirsty mosquitoes, you could literally grab a hand-full of skeeters (mosquitoes) out of the air. My dad said to me, “grab the bug spray, these damn things are everywhere.” So we put on OFF and continued our decent to the waters. We fished for three hours. We caught a ton of fish and we swapped many entertaining stories. It was an awesome and bonding experience with my dad, I will never forget that priceless morning.

I departed from my homestead. It was twelve o’clock on a Wednesday during summer vacation of 7th grade. I was just about to celebrate the one month anniversary of the purchase of my faithful IPOD TROGDOR! TROGDOR is the name of my first IPOD. It gave me many hours of musical entertainment. I was proud that I had kept TROGDOR in good condition for so long, because at many times I wanted to break the thing. I have almost always broken my favorite expensive item on accident.
I left my house to go over my friend Tyler’s house. We were going to have a fun time swimming in his pool. I was wearing shorts at the time, and TROGDOR rested gently in my pocket. I arrived at Tyler’s house and then realized I had forgotten my swim trunks. I forgot that TROGDOR was sleeping in my pocket. I ran and jumped in the pool. Tyler and I swam for about an hour. Not long after Tyler’s mom yelled, “LUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHH”. We exited the pool area and proceeded to dry off before ascending the house. I patted my pocket in intent to dry, but instead I was frozen in fear. TROGDOR had become wet. I pulled him out of my pocket, and attempted to press the life giving button. To m dismay, TROGDOR was not playing beautiful music, instead he laid there cold, dark, and soggy.

I rushed home and called my father at work, I asked him what would help bring TROGDOR back to life. He said it would be best to leave it in the oven at a low heat for a short amount of time. I did this, and was very anxious to see if TROGDOR would spark back to life. After about ten minutes, I pulled TROGDOR out of the oven and put him on the cooling rack. He was very warm, but dry. I pressed play and his screen lit up. TROGDOR lived to play music another day.


I value both fishing trips with my father and my IPOD for different reasons. I love my dad with all my heart. TROGDOR is a good IPOD, he picked me up, when I was bored and needed Hendrix. So think of this the next time your lonely, there is always another IPOD, but none like TROGDOR, and you only get one true, loving dad.