Many summer mornings were spent fishing with my Dad when I was little. He taught me so much on those early mornings, not only about fishing, but also about life in general. He always let me reel in the fish, even if it was on his pole. There were many mornings when we didn't catch anything, but it was always fun. At home we were usually met with questions of "how many?" "how big?" We would dock and then go inside for pancakes or Yum Yum Shop goodies.
Yesterday, after a few years of not going with him, I went fishing with my Dad. He got one bass, but it jumped off before it got to the boat. We saw loons, talked about my upcoming wedding, and remembered some of our good times fishing in the past... like the time I caught my first rainbow trout while wearing my grandmother's plaid polyester pants!
I love my Dad.