Jacob and his fishing pole.
Faith fishing.
Baby Brianna--too young to fish, but she LOVES the colorful bobbers.Actually, a fishin' they DID go! Luke and Megan took their children fishing at a little pond behind the Lowe's store there in Midland. It is supposedly stocked with fish. The kids didn't catch anything, so were a bit disappointed, but they got to spend time together with mom and dad. That is what they will remember. My dad loved to fish. He worked 6 days a week as a gas station attendant. That is a truly extinct job. My dad used to fill your car with gas, wash ALL of your windows, check your oil, and air up your tires if needed. He did that and he was a mechanic at the same time. He would just get started taking some carburetor apart, and have to help a customer. There was this hose looking deal you ran over and it rang a bell so he knew he had a customer. Carburetors are probably also extinct, replaced by fuel injectors. I do know that Mr Wonderful was AMAZED at how well my dad could take apart and put a carburetor back together again. We had a Chevy Citation, probably the last car we had with a carburetor and dad took all of the 50 little pieces apart, cleaned them in solvent and put them back together. Did I mention Mr Wonderful was amazed? He did a lot of work on cars with his own dad. He told me carburetors were hard to work on AND took patience. He said my dad was brilliant at carburetors. That made me happy and proud. I told my dad at the time. He just shrugged. He never really got it that he was great at some things.
Dad was also a great and patient fisherman. I kind of got off subject there for a moment, lost in memories of my dad, but when I thought of Megan and Luke taking the kids fishing, it reminded me of MANY family outings we took that involved fishing. The really funny thing is, my dad liked to catch fish, but he didn't like to eat them! That is ok, as the rest of us loved fishing AND eating fish, so they never did go to waste.
I remember my dad patiently teaching me how to put my leader on, put the little lead weights on, do a loop for my hook. (He always put my worms on until I hit 10 years old, then he said I had to do my own. I wonder if he ever made my little sister Vickie put her own worms on? Last I remember, he was STILL doing it for her!) He showed me many, many times. He didn't even get mad at me when I casted over where he told me not to: As he knew there was wood and brush and crap under a certain area that the hook would get caught on....and the dumb person that cast over there lost their leader and had to start over. When my dad told me where NOT to cast, I learned to listen. (Although some of my more wild casts DID still end up over in the no cast area.) I liked to try to cast farther than my brother. In those days, boys were usually thought to be much better at sports, and fishing. Not so now. Many times I'd get up early, travel an hour or so with my dad, hike a mile or so and catch some fish. Then we would head home. I felt special. I know my brothers and sister have those same memories--happy, fun filled times with dad. My mom worked nights, so she missed out on some of the trips. Sometimes she would do without sleep to go with us, or catch a nap on a blanket under a tree with us kids asking her 50 thousand questions.
I have a picture someplace of me and my first fish. I'll have to see about scanning it into this blog....maybe. You know those good intentions. For now, I am very happy to look at the little smiling faces of Megan's children, who have learned to fish.
Dad was also a great and patient fisherman. I kind of got off subject there for a moment, lost in memories of my dad, but when I thought of Megan and Luke taking the kids fishing, it reminded me of MANY family outings we took that involved fishing. The really funny thing is, my dad liked to catch fish, but he didn't like to eat them! That is ok, as the rest of us loved fishing AND eating fish, so they never did go to waste.
I remember my dad patiently teaching me how to put my leader on, put the little lead weights on, do a loop for my hook. (He always put my worms on until I hit 10 years old, then he said I had to do my own. I wonder if he ever made my little sister Vickie put her own worms on? Last I remember, he was STILL doing it for her!) He showed me many, many times. He didn't even get mad at me when I casted over where he told me not to: As he knew there was wood and brush and crap under a certain area that the hook would get caught on....and the dumb person that cast over there lost their leader and had to start over. When my dad told me where NOT to cast, I learned to listen. (Although some of my more wild casts DID still end up over in the no cast area.) I liked to try to cast farther than my brother. In those days, boys were usually thought to be much better at sports, and fishing. Not so now. Many times I'd get up early, travel an hour or so with my dad, hike a mile or so and catch some fish. Then we would head home. I felt special. I know my brothers and sister have those same memories--happy, fun filled times with dad. My mom worked nights, so she missed out on some of the trips. Sometimes she would do without sleep to go with us, or catch a nap on a blanket under a tree with us kids asking her 50 thousand questions.
I have a picture someplace of me and my first fish. I'll have to see about scanning it into this blog....maybe. You know those good intentions. For now, I am very happy to look at the little smiling faces of Megan's children, who have learned to fish.
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