A Different Kind of Mission
After 20 years of flying F/A-18s in the United States Marine Corps—including five combat tours and over 4,700 hours in the cockpit—my life used to be filled with high speeds, tight turns, and constant adrenaline. Every mission was meticulously planned, every decision carried weight, and every second counted. When I retired, one of the biggest challenges I faced wasn’t adjusting to civilian life—it was learning how to slow down.
That’s where fishing came in.
Fishing, for me, has become more than a hobby. It’s a reset button. It offers a peace and stillness that’s hard to find in a world that constantly moves fast. After years of combat missions, checklists, and operating under pressure, casting a line into quiet waters gave me space to breathe again. It’s a simple act, but it has helped me reconnect—with nature, with friends and family, and most importantly, with myself.
Finding Peace in Patience
Military life—especially aviation—is all about precision and urgency. You’re always on alert, always ready, always moving. But fishing requires something completely different: patience. At first, I’ll admit, that was frustrating. I was so used to immediate feedback and fast action that sitting quietly by the water felt unnatural.
But over time, I began to appreciate the rhythm of it. You don’t control the pace when you’re fishing. You wait. You observe. You listen. And in that waiting, you learn to slow your mind and become present. That kind of peace doesn’t come easy to most veterans. We’re trained to push, to move, to react. Fishing taught me how to be still—and that’s been one of the most valuable lessons of my post-service life.
Nature as a Healing Space
There’s something healing about being outside—surrounded by water, trees, and the sounds of nature. After years of deployments, briefings, and jet engines, the natural world feels like a sanctuary. When I’m on a lake or a river, I’m not thinking about missions or medals or my next move. I’m watching the ripples in the water, feeling the breeze, and letting the stress roll off my shoulders.
Being in nature has a way of resetting your internal compass. It reminds you that life isn’t always about the next objective—it’s also about appreciation. The kind of beauty you find on a quiet morning with a fishing rod in hand can’t be replicated by a screen or a schedule. It’s something you feel in your bones, and for many of us who served, it’s exactly what we need.
The Joy of Simplicity
Military life is complex. There are codes, procedures, and protocols for everything. In contrast, fishing is beautifully simple. A rod, a reel, a line, and a bit of bait—that’s all you need. It strips everything down to the basics. There’s no noise, no clutter, no bureaucracy. Just you and the water.
After retirement, I found that simplicity to be a form of freedom. It reminded me that not everything has to be complicated to be meaningful. Some of my best moments have come sitting in an old boat with a friend, sharing stories, and waiting for a bite. Those quiet conversations, the laughter, even the silence—they’ve helped me reconnect in ways I didn’t realize I needed.
A New Way to Serve
One of the things I missed most after retiring was the sense of purpose. In the military, your mission is clear. You train, you prepare, and you execute. Civilian life can feel less defined. But fishing gave me a new kind of purpose—especially when I started sharing it with others.
I’ve taken friends, fellow veterans, and even kids out on the water. It’s more than just teaching them how to cast or what lure to use. It’s about creating a space where people feel safe to slow down, open up, and just be themselves. For those of us who’ve seen combat, that’s not always easy to find. But on the water, walls come down. Conversations happen. Healing begins.
A Lifelong Anchor
Everyone needs something that grounds them. For me, flying fighter jets gave me focus and direction. Now, fishing anchors me in a different way. It reminds me to slow down, to breathe, to enjoy the moment.
It’s funny—after years of navigating some of the most advanced aircraft in the world, it’s a simple fishing rod that’s taught me some of life’s most important lessons. That peace I used to chase in the skies? I’ve found it in the stillness of a lake, the quiet tug on a line, and the laughter of a shared moment by the water’s edge.
Final Thoughts
Fishing isn’t just a pastime for me—it’s therapy. It’s helped me transition from the structured chaos of combat missions to the calm, reflective space of retirement. It’s shown me that peace doesn’t have to be earned through intensity. Sometimes, it’s waiting for you on the banks of a quiet river.
For any veteran trying to find their footing after service, I highly recommend grabbing a rod and heading out to the water. You might just find, as I did, that the best kind of reset isn’t found by pushing harder—but by letting go.