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Greatest Dad’s Day Gift
By the time this issue reaches you Father's Day 2013 will be several weeks in the rearview, none-the-less, the tale I'm about to relate is precious to me and I hope it will be meaningful to you as well.
I had the exceptional fortune to be raised by a father who loved the outdoors and instilled the same in me, taking me fishing and hunting from the time I could barely walk and hold a willow stick with a piece of line and hook; and I began following him afield way before I could hold or swing a shotgun.
His passion led me to enjoy a lifelong pursuit of fishing and hunting that I passed to my own children, and now my grandchildren I have been blessed with six, five lovely granddaughters and a grandson.
Tanner, second grandchild and only grandson, is as severely afflicted with fishing and hunting as I ever was at age ten; and he has grown to become quite the accomplished young angler. Knowing that time passes all too quickly and selfishly yearning to wander through my memory and live vicariously through his zeal, I made a special request for Father's Day - that he be allowed to spend several days with Pee Paw for some serious fishing fun.
We rose before daylight as anxious fishermen do, wolfed hearty breakfasts and packed lunches, launched our homemade skiff and spent three thrilling days chasing trout and redfish all across San Antonio Bay. Tanner was awed to see redfish scooting ahead of the boat in shallow water and thrilled to see schoolie trout terrorizing tiny shrimp pouring through a marsh slough toward the bay.
He landed his first trout on a surface lure, learning how the outgoing tide stacks the wonders of nature into tiny corners. The bay reefs we waded held willing trout and we fooled several for dinner.
The finest part for me was his enthusiasm. Every time we stopped the boat he'd be out of that life vest reaching for a rod, wanting to know if he had the right lure tied on. I understood completely; fifty years is really not so long ago.
I had the exceptional fortune to be raised by a father who loved the outdoors and instilled the same in me, taking me fishing and hunting from the time I could barely walk and hold a willow stick with a piece of line and hook; and I began following him afield way before I could hold or swing a shotgun.
His passion led me to enjoy a lifelong pursuit of fishing and hunting that I passed to my own children, and now my grandchildren I have been blessed with six, five lovely granddaughters and a grandson.
Tanner, second grandchild and only grandson, is as severely afflicted with fishing and hunting as I ever was at age ten; and he has grown to become quite the accomplished young angler. Knowing that time passes all too quickly and selfishly yearning to wander through my memory and live vicariously through his zeal, I made a special request for Father's Day - that he be allowed to spend several days with Pee Paw for some serious fishing fun.
We rose before daylight as anxious fishermen do, wolfed hearty breakfasts and packed lunches, launched our homemade skiff and spent three thrilling days chasing trout and redfish all across San Antonio Bay. Tanner was awed to see redfish scooting ahead of the boat in shallow water and thrilled to see schoolie trout terrorizing tiny shrimp pouring through a marsh slough toward the bay.
He landed his first trout on a surface lure, learning how the outgoing tide stacks the wonders of nature into tiny corners. The bay reefs we waded held willing trout and we fooled several for dinner.
The finest part for me was his enthusiasm. Every time we stopped the boat he'd be out of that life vest reaching for a rod, wanting to know if he had the right lure tied on. I understood completely; fifty years is really not so long ago.