Not just another bass story
Remember the first time you fished? And who you fished with? Tackle? This story touches anybody with memories.
We used to write a lot of what we called "Uncle" stories. The "Uncle" referred to the uncle of one of our publishers, a guy named Eddie. He taught that team member how to fish, how to act like a man, and how to grow up. Any one of a thousand - no ten - could apply to our site and what we support here.
This is an Uncle story, except it is about the author's dad. It's a story that doesn't teach you much of anything really; it shows no suggested lures, it doesn't talk about to skip a live sardine underneath a dock, or how to cast a flyrod.
No. It teaches you how to see our world the way it's meant to be seen.
The story is from the Capital Journal. If you got this far, click through and read the original. It's exceptional.
When I was two years old, my dad took me fishing for the first time. I’m told that at the time, I was the proud owner of a brand new Snoopy-themed fishing pole. One of the yellow-and-white Zebco jobs from the 1980s, it would have had one of those iconic, enclosed spinning reels unique to the company’s line of fishing equipment.