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Fishing With Dad

I tagged along fishing with my dad when I was young. He would bait my hook, take my fish off for me, and show amusement in his grin and sparkling blue eyes when I would get tangled up in brush, his shirt, his line, or my own shoe!

Dad always let me carry in the biggest fish and with a wink tell my mom that I had caught it. He would say I was his fishing buddy and that I listened.

I did listen too. I sat still. I did not rock the boat. I made myself not stick my feet in the water no matter how badly I wanted to. I didn't talk too much because I didn't want to scare the fish. I learned to pee in a coffee can and dumped it out myself.

I sat and watched my bobber for what seemed like hours – just like he told me. And when I did get a bite, I waited and didn't get too antsy- just like he said. I loved to hear him say, “That's a keeper!”

Dad is gone now. However, he not only taught me how to bait a wriggly worm when we were fishing, but to talk when it is necessary and listen more, to have patience and good things will come, to avoid temptation (like putting your toes in the cool water) and, to always clean up your own mess.

Recently while fishing with my husband, using one of my dad's old fishing poles, I found myself saying, “Sit still. Don't get too excited. Do you think we should be moving the boat again so soon? Shhhh you're going to scare the fish.” I got the same grin and was sure I could hear dad say, “Now that's a keeper.”