Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Way back .....

I guess the love of fishing started a long time ago... a very long time ago. Back in the days when my dad took me fishing. I’m not sure where I was somewhere up near Traverse City. We were by the place where the trains went by, and the creek was shivering cold. I can remember sitting on the edge of the bridge dropping my line in the water or like most kids playing with my line in the water. Bare feet were dangling over the edge absentmindedly, when all of a sudden I swung the hook and screamed...I can still remember my dad running across the stream to save his little girl - cigarettes, wallet and all his pockets emptying as he leaped - his belongings floating aimlessly downstream. I wasn’t injured, more startled than anything. Wouldn’t you be with a wiggling grasshopper stuck on your big toe?
 I guess it was the start of my fishing or at least the earliest memory I have of fishing.  There are many more stories over the years...But that was the earliest, and believe it or not,  that was the onset of my love of fishing.

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