A woman recalls wonderful memories of fishing with her dad.
My father worked 12 hours a day Monday through Saturday, which didn’t allow a lot of time to spend with his family. However, when I was 10 or 11, he began getting one afternoon off during the week in the summer. I was excited when he chose to make that afternoon our special time together.
Most of the time we went fishing. I would have the worms dug and the poles ready to go when he got home. So, with my cane pole and Daddy’s rod and reel in hand, we would head down the steep hill behind the house and plop down on the bank of the small river.
Daddy let me try out his pole a couple of times, but that ended when I “caught” his shirt and then my knee.
While fishing with Dad, we spent many hours talking about Daddy’s childhood and my dreams for the future. We didn’t catch many fish, but my memories are a much greater treasure than any mess of fish.
Daddy has been gone for many years, but whenever I see a family fishing or loaded down with fishing gear, I mentally picture them catching a lot more than fish.
Read more reader-submitted fishing stories in Great Fishing Stories and Tales.
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