My Favorite Fisherman

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This week's word is Fishing.

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It's been ages since I've gone fishing yet fishing has always been a big part of my life. Sounds like a contradiction, doesn't it? In my life, it's not. You can't come from the family I do without having spent a LOT of time fishing.

Here's why...

Dad was a fisherman.

Devoted.

Dedicated.

100% Fisherman.

He fished coast to coast.

East to West.

North to South.

North America.

South America.

Rocky Mountains.

Andes Mountains.

Dad loved fishing and went as often as he could. He also went as long as he could--oh, not just hours in the day, but as long as he could throughout his battle with bone cancer.

I know it's not a good picture of Dad--but Dad was still inside that body ravaged by cancer. It's a testimony of a man who refused to give up, who loved life and living, and a man who loved people.

Sheer determination and the help of good friends got him into the boat last summer.


He truly loved fishing. It was his happy place.

He loved it so much the fish came to him!! *wink*

Dad and his wonderful fishing buddy, Terry, fish at the park. Real fishermen!

Patty Jo Baits Her Hook taken by Harry Straub, 1974.

I spent hours and hours fishing with Dad. From the time I was a little girl living on the coast of Maine until we left Ecuador after I graduated from high school, I got to fish with Dad. Granted, I was more likely to spend the time reading or writing or sleeping than fishing, but for me, that was joy of fishing.

Quiet.
Time to think and just BE.

I haven't fished for years, and truth be told, I miss it. I miss sitting with Dad, savoring the quiet and just being with him.

Fishing. It's been a huge part of my life from the beginning. So many good memories there.

So tell me, are you ready to go fishing?

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Next week's word is GIANT. Hope you join us!

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