Fathers Who Fish

What is it that attracts people to fishing? Is it the thrill of the chase, catching a meal, or just relaxing? I, myself, have never really been attracted to fishing, but the men (and one granddaughter) in my family love to fish.

My father, Frank George Newhouse (1906-1972); my brother, Douglas Frank Newhouse (1948-2003); my son, Patrick Alan Oliver, and his children Daniel, Tyler, and Ashleigh were or are fishing enthusiasts.

My dad, Frank, was not a hunter – except for game birds – but he did fish. He did not camp out in the wild; but, if there was a resort cabin near a fishing lake, river, or stream, he was all gung-ho.  Since we lived in Minnesota, his fishing was on one of the many “10,000 great lakes,” trout streams, and the Mississippi River. I grew up loving to eat freshwater fish.

Frank Newhouse - late 1940s

My brother, Doug, was introduced to fishing before he was five years old by my dad. His first fish, a trout, was captured in the below picture (look below the arrow). I have memories of him coming home from a couple of hours of fishing in the local lake with a whole bunch of bullheads. I thought they looked disgusting, and I do not remember ever eating them. However, my mom, Florence Swinburne Newhouse (1907-1997), always told Doug that she would cook whatever he brought home, as long as he cleaned it.  So, even though I do not remember eating bullheads – my husband has assured me they are edible – we must have had them at plenty of suppers as Doug kept bringing them home.

Doug's first fish with Dad looking on

Then there is my son, Patrick. When he was about seven years old, he talked my husband, Jim, into teaching him how to fish (and clean the fish), even though Jim, himself, is not a fisherman. [However, as a child, he did go fishing with his grandfather George Myron Oliver (1871-1953)]. From that time forward, there was no looking back. Patrick started fishing in Minnesota and continued to pursue this sport as he traveled around the U.S. during his 20-plus years in the military. Today, he is fishing in Virginia with his two sons Daniel, aged 12; Tyler, aged 9; and occasionally, his daughter Ashleigh, aged 6. I do not know if his children like to fish, but they always have a smile on their faces in the pictures I have seen.

Daniel getting some help from dad and then showing off his fish - May 2019

 As Father’s Day approaches, I cannot help but reflect on the fathers in my family who taught their children to fish. I think for the fathers the appeal of this pastime is about spending time with family, spending time relaxing, spending time in the great outdoors, and spending time making memories with their children.

Tyler with dad holding a whopper - 2016

Ashleigh - her 1st fish, 2017 (Dad is helping to hold it)

Taking Secrets to the Grave

Secrets are hard to keep. On the other hand, some people are able to take secrets to their grave.

I have always known since I was a small child that I was adopted; in fact, it was a point of pride for me. I can remember telling my childhood friends that I was better than them because “my parents chose me (as opposed to their parents not being able to chose them).  My adoptive parents were very open: I knew names, locations, and the story behind the adoption of my brother and me (we are biological brother and sister).  So, for me, there were no secrets. But for my biological family, secrets were not found out until after the holders of the secret died.

Hattie & Elmer, 1972

You will notice in that last sentence that I said “holders of the secret.”  There was only one secret, but four holders of that secret: Elmer Vigoren (1903-1975) and Hattie Bourque Vigoren (1902-1985), my biological maternal grandparents; Violet Vigoren Curfman Evans Hendsbee (1923-1995), my biological mother; and Robert Douglas Evans (1919-2011), my biological father.

Let’s start with Elmer, Hattie, and Violet. Violet’s first marriage produced a child, Wayne Curfman (1941- ). Her marriage fell apart and she left Wayne with her parents. They still had a child at home, Harry Vigoren (1929-1946).  Then, Violet married again, Robert Evans. They had two children my brother Douglas (1948-2003) and me. The marriage was breaking apart, so the two of us were also left with Violet’s parents. Now, Elmer and Hattie had four children under their care. To make a long story short – my adoptive parents Frank and Florence Newhouse, adopted Douglas and me in 1949.

Through internet searches on my part to find medical information, I met my maternal biological family in 2002 (remember, I knew names). The family, for the most part, is living in California. Wayne Curfman, my half-brother, said that one day my brother and I were there, and then we were gone: He would have been about 8 years old at the time. The extended family would get together for Christmas, including my biological mother and grandparents, and there would be a discussion as to what happened to the “missing children.” My mother and grandparents knew where we were and what happened to us because they had kept in contact with my adoptive parents. However, never a word was said.

Violet & Robert, 1946

My father, Robert Evans, eventually remarried and had a family. He died in 2011, and his son (my half-brother) Robert Evans, Jr., and daughter-in-law, Barbara Stewart Evans, found me in 2012. They had requested his personnel records from the Department of Defense in order to find out about his various medals, awards, etc. In those records they saw a notation that in 1946 he had a wife and two dependents. They were shocked. Using the internet, they found me. Robert had never revealed to anyone in his family, including his siblings, that he had had a prior marriage. I had not tried too hard to find my birth father because of his somewhat common name and I knew he was from the St. Louis, Missouri, area. For me, there were just too many to try to go through.

So, my question is, how does someone keep a secret – like having children and even a marriage – to their death?

According to the July 2017 issue of Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, keeping secrets is “stressful because you . . . keep thinking about that information, which reminds you that you have a secret.”

So, did Elmer, Hattie, Violet, and Robert keep thinking about my brother and me? Did they want to share the secret but were afraid of the judgment of others? Did this secret cause them stress? I guess we’ll never know.