So it goes...

This past Father's Day, I got a text from my daughter wishing me a good day. She lives in Minneapolis and is settling into a new life up there by my blood family. In the text she mentioned how she misses us and that we really need to go fishing again soon. This melted my heart a little bit. Last night at a poetry open mic, I read a poem titled Queen. It is a piece about fishing with my daughter up north. Between it and her text and my son's latest interest in fishing I have been thinking about all the great times we've had as a family in pursuit of finny critters. The activity requires a lot of patience but also allows lots of time to talk about life. It also gives you "fish stories" that will last a lifetime. Times like: When Sarah crouched on the doc at 4 years old and fished until we pulled her away. She caught over a hundred fish in 3 days one year (Not that we fisher folk track these things.) When Uncle Tom caught a huge bass in the Boundary Waters...

Well, it's nearly upon us. Fishing season, that is. It opens the first weekend in May and I can't wait. Last night I went to an event with couple of friends. It's called Smallie Night Out and there are a couple of guest speakers followed by a door prize raffle. It got me jazzed for fishing, that much is sure. Dad Fishing has always been a part of my family. My dad loved it, my brothers and I love it and now my kids enjoy it too. It really is a sport that can bring a family together. While I can't remember the first fish I caught, I do remember fishing at Lake Phalen and catching bluegills like crazy. My brother Tom gave me a Pocket Tackle Box with a few important lures in it. It gave me a sense of ownership and investment in the sport. Me and Rob in Hibbing, MN One of the things we used to do as brothers was to trade fishing tackle. It was the usual sham of trying to pass off the lures you didn't want to your siblings. The rusty old lures that we'd...