It seems each year that goes by, more people voice concern over the attitudes and values of our children. And it's certainly true that children are learning the hard, brutal side of life at far earlier ages than when I was growing up.

But I don't believe children today are any better or worse than they've ever been. In fact, I figure that as a general rule, those that get loving attention turn out well and those who are ignored or worse — well, don't.

I have a theory about quality time based on the way my father and grandfather treated me as a child. We were a watersports family. We were always out on boats, fishing, sailing, cruising, or just traveling from point A to point B where a boat was often the shortest and fastest route.

But what I remember most vividly are the "growing up" discussions, especially with my Dad. Every time we had something important to discuss — sex, drugs, drinking, college, career, behavior, responsibility — you get the idea, we discussed it out on the boat.

I don't know exactly what it was about the boat but it was a great equalizer. I learned to run boats at an early age and had more than my share of independence on the water. So when we were out on the water, I felt we were having a very private conversation rather than a sermon. I never had to worry about the embarrassment of someone (my sister or mother) interrupting. It was just us.

Back then, it was far less common for women to go boating by themselves so I'm afraid my sister didn't enjoy the same special time aboard that I did. Fortunately, that is changing.

What is it about fishing that allows you to discuss even the most intimate subjects when the same discussion elsewhere would be painfully uncomfortable?

To be honest, I haven't a clue. I can only speculate that fishing and boating can teach virtues like patience, tolerance for the whims and vagaries of Nature that can then be applied to human nature, appreciation for the simple beauties of creation, self-reliance, and stress management.

What I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt from my own experience and the experiences that I've shared with my own son, Travis, is that boating and fishing provide a bonding venue second to none.

During the past half-dozen years, I've taken my son with me to various fishing tournaments, boat tests and weekends with the guys. He fishes much more than any of his friends and as I sit and watch him, he seems very different from his peers. Travis has infinitely more patience than any of them, and I attribute that to fishing. Unless you happen to hit a very lucky day, fishing takes a lot of wait-and-see.

Travis and I recently traveled to the Dominican Republic for a marlin tournament. We enjoy these particular events because they involve releasing all billfish, which we both believe is a must with the state of today's stocks. Travis has been trying to catch a marlin for the past five years.

During those years, he's been in the right place to catch one, but we've always had friends aboard. Travis firmly believes in guests catching fish first. Consequently, he's never been the one on the rod when "his" marlin hooked up. That's ok. Again, good values, courtesy and heart are all character traits that I admire, and I'm glad he has them in spades.

Tournament organizers, Capt. Tred Barta and Dr. Tom Irizarry decided to stack the odds in Travis's favor in the Dominican Republic. We had a boat for two days prior to the tournament, and Travis was the only angler. We fished a section of the Mona Passage — a notoriously rough stretch of water roiled by trade winds and powerful undersea currents. It enjoys notoriety for terrific blue and white marlin fishing. Bravado dictated that Travis couldn't help but catch his first marlin here. Of course, there's no such thing as a fish guarantee.

A first marlin. It's hard to describe, but it's something of a Neanderthal rite of passage. Billfish represent the Holy Grail of big-game fishing. It's what Ernest Hemingway and Zane Grey lived for. After so many years fishing and boating together, I wanted my son to be able to say, "I've caught a marlin." There's little or no logic involved here. Just emotion and tradition.

The first day, all Travis could claim was a single dolphin. Day two, Travis exhibited his usual patience as we trolled the "billfish-rich waters" for an entire morning without a bite. Personally, I've been skunked in some of the world's greatest fishing locales. I hoped this wasn't another one.

Travis had just sat down with his new Clive Cussler novel (his favorites) when a line snapped out of an outrigger pin and the reel started screaming as line peeled off. The mate grabbed the rod from the holder while Travis jumped into the big fighting chair. A bucket harness latches to the reel allowing the angler to slide back and forth in the chair using powerful legs to move the rod up and down rather than weaker arms. On fish that weigh hundreds of pounds, this can be a blessing. Travis locked himself into the harness.

I stood behind him, pivoting the chair so the rod always pointed toward the fish and calmly whispered encouragement into Travis's ear. I poured cool water on his neck as he strained against the acrobatic fish. Travis has had considerable practice catching fish and got this one — an estimated 75-pound white marlin — alongside in about 10 minutes where, when the leader wound through the rod tip, we counted an official release. But before we could grab hold of its bill, the great fish sounded, heading straight for the bottom 1,000 feet below.

Travis never gave up, slowly but surely pressuring the fish back to the surface. A half hour later, the beautiful white marlin again came alongside, this time as tired as Travis was. As I grabbed the bill, the mate gently removed the hook from the corner of the fish's mouth. We towed the fish along for a few minutes to be sure it had plenty of water flow across its gills, and was strong enough to swim off on its own, ready to live and fight another day.

Travis sat quietly for a moment as the others aboard hooted and high-fived. Twelve years old seems a bit young to contemplatively savor a moment. But then, Travis is the most wonderful boy in the universe, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.