QUALITY TIME

Quality Time

When I was a young man of 15, My grandpa took me fishing.

Separated by a generation

We watched the Sunrise on the Columbia together, in equal awe.

That man gave me a revelation that day.

He said, "Son, You're doing life wrong. Stay in school, so you can get a good job.

Stick with the right crowd, and live life day by day.

I can see you are sad, but life isn't always this bad."

He taught me how to catch a sturgeon with a strip of shad on my hook.

We sat in that boat on the Columbia for most of that day, and I thought about a lot of things.

I experienced the thrills of fighting the Great White Goddess of the sea, with that old West Wind in my face.

I look back now and realize that all that lower back pain is what kept me sane.

My grandpa is right about many things I now see.

He taught me how to be a man... Just doing the best I can. 

FISHING LURE

Never ending ripples on the water,

Give evidence of hungry fish.

Finally, casting and retrieving

Into dark water.

Shining, Bright, colors,

Have minnows, frogs, spinner bait.

Its glint fatally attractive.

Bass lunging for a meal,

Setting a treble hook.

Reeling, Reeling, Reeling,

Every Inch a Fight Lost.

My dinner!

Fishing With Dad

Fishin' With Dad

Sometimes after supper

When a burst of sun was still out shining;

My Dad and I would go fishing

In a place far from confining;

Just right behind our rancher home,

Down this narrow gravel lane,

Was where a small, private pond sat,

And some fish we would obtain.

Using garden worms for bait,

With our reels and ultra light’s,

The fish congregating in the shallows

Would always give us bites.

Bluegills, sunnies, and large mouth

Were the kinds we’d always catch;

And you could certainly guarantee,

That we’d come home with quite a batch?

Before heading back up to the house,

I’d hop-up off the tackle box.

To go stroll down along the spongy bank

And find a couple of real flat rocks.

Across the unruffled water I’d wing 'em . . .

And then count the umpteen skips.

Pretty soon, dad would join in with me,

And show me some throwing tips.

Those fishin' days when I was a youngster,

Are long gone with the wind.

And there’s not a thing I would not render,

Just to have them back again.