The Saugus River
	Obsessions can be embarrassing. If the object of ones obsession is members of the opposite sex or money or even particular body parts, depending, then society winks or laughs, and they are called drives. An obsession, rather than a drive, is something you are embarrassed to disclose to anyone. How, for example, can one tactfully reveal that they are obsessed with a fish. To this day, when in cocktail conversation with a new acquaintance and I am asked ,"why did you come to Oregon?", I blush and shuffle my feet, and generally lie. Because the real reason is based in an obsession I have had, starting at age 18, with Striped Bass. Now, most obsessions, to develop fully, start out as just a really good fantasy that is initially remote and unrewarded. Then there must be some form of constant reinforcement, and finally it must be at least a remotely achievable possibility. Growing up in Seattle, a thousand miles minimum from the nearest striped bass, articles in the national outdoor magazines about striper fishing were initially simply educational and only remotely interesting. Then, about 1960, Joe Brooks caught a world record fly rod fish in Coos Bay, Oregon, and the spark of possibility was ignited. But the real obsession did not begin until, living in Boston in 1968, finally possessing the rods and reels, and a boat of sorts, I read in the sports section of the Boston Herald Tribune, which never carried a fishing column, a cryptic, two line article. "Wellfleet, MA. Three anglers, fishing off the mouth of Wellfleet Harbour brought in 170 stripers." What? I stared in disbelief, thinking there must be a typo. But clearly, the only reason for the article at all was that number, 170. This was 1968, 50 miles from 2 million people in Greater Boston. One hundred and seventy fish? Were there no limits? Why wasn't everyone in Boston rushing down to Wellfleet Harbour? I actually passed near Wellfleet, on the protected, inner curve of Cape Cod Bay, on my way to Lower Brewster Pond. One hundred seventy? Surely if three could catch 170, I could catch at least one! About that time, in my weekly monitoring of the Gadabout Gaddis program, he had a segment on fishing out of Woods Hole, Mass. Since I was there then, and not here then, I have no idea whether Gadabout Gaddis was carried in the west coast, but Gadabout was the 1950's and '60's forerunner to Larry Schoenborn, Mark Sosin, and Mike Barrett, only older, inherently funnier, and more realistic.
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