"Thanks for the Memories, Dad"

With another Father's Day nigh at hand, it seems only right that sons and daughters everywhere, who owe their love of fishing to their dads, should pause and pay a little tribute. I found a fella online who, although his dad has been gone 32 years, still stops and remembers dear ol' pop each and every Father's Day.

"My dad didn't take many vacations when we were kids," he wrote, "but he did take a few days off in early summer to go fishing and a few days in the fall to duck hunt. Dad grew up in the Thousand Islands area of upstate New York, and he never missed opening day of bass fishing, which was always Father's Day weekend. In 1965, when I was 10, he took me with him for my first-ever fishing trip.

"We drove all night from northwest Indiana, through Canada, and back into the U.S. at Alexandria Bay, NY. I remember the morning when we arrived just after daybreak. The skies were clear, and the sun was bright when I had my first boat ride from the dock in Chippewa Bay out to Oak Island, where my Uncle Bill was the caretaker of an estate. Right after we pulled up to the dock, Uncle Bill gave me my first rod and a Zebco 202. A short time later, I caught my first smallie.

"Dad wasn't a great fisherman, but he knew the spots around the islands where we could find 'em. As I recall, about the only artificial lures we used were Abu Reflex spinners. Dad also had a fiberglass fly rod with an automatic fly reel he used to throw poppers with. The upper half of that rod weighed more than an entire graphite rod weighs today.

"He taught me to row the boat my uncle loaned us to keep him in position while he cast the popper along the rocky shorelines. On Sunday, at lunch time, we pulled up onto a small island where Dad would cook up a shore lunch of smallmouth fried in bacon grease, a can of beans, and new potatoes. While he got the fire going, cleaned the fish, and cooked, I cast that Abu from shore to add to our catch.

"I joined Dad for several Father's Day opening days after that until my job kept me from getting the time off. Right around the time I was able to get vacation days, Dad got sick and passed away.

"Those four or five days back in 1965 have had more influence on my life than any other time. I fell in love with the water, the woods, road trips, and smallmouth bass fishing during that short trip. Today, I spend a lot of time working for the Illinois Smallmouth Alliance, my home is decorated with items that remind me of the St. Lawrence River and the Northwoods, and I always am planning my next smallmouth-fishing road trip. I never will forget that first trip as long as I live.

"Thanks for the memories, Dad. I miss you."