When I was a kid, like 14, my dad took me up on the river to learn to flyfish. I was an avid panfisheran icefisherman and dreamer. My great Uncle and Aunt were legendary flyfishers. They conducted the lessons for a few years.
When I was 17 or so, dad took a friend and me to the river for a few days. I remember it well- one thing, I lost my class ring while swimming in the icy water. Another thing, this was the only time we did anything like this. I never brought friends home, and dad rarely went anywhere without mom.
This was a remarkable fishing trip. First, I remembrer it vividly, second, even though a teenage jerk, I had a great time with my dad. Third, my friend took up fly fishing and is still at it. Now, almost 40 years later, we reconnected on Facebook and exchange news of our fishing. This all is good and makes me happy.
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