A Fisherman Friend
I remember well, those warm summer days when we would head out early, thermos of coffee, sack of snacks and anticipation of the catch that lay deep below. The scent of salt was in the sea spray and the hum of the engines would foreshadow the journey to the bait barge where we would take on whatever was most available. He would always pull along side with what seemed to be effortless ease, as he did most things. I would assisted the handlers in the taking on of either anchovies or live squid, both excellent baits. Afterwards, the next leg of the trip would be a run either up or down the coast, usually far out to sea where the deep azure of the water faded off into black inky depths. He would teach me how to navigate not only the boat, but life itself. Finally arriving at some spot which "looked good" to him, we would heave to and stop the engines. I remember how silent the world sounded. Only the lapping of the waves upon the bow and the whirl of the live bait tank would be heard as we lowered our lines into the water. It was there and then I have my favorite memories, of nothing more than this, far away from everything, gently rising and falling on the tide and quiet discussions with my fisherman friend. He has been gone now, for eight years. And it has been that long since I have slipped so effortlessly across that foamy brine...long since I have whet a line and long that I missed him, each and every day. So to you my dad,...I wish you a wonderful Father's Day, you were the best dad... and fisherman friend I ever had.
Today's Quote:
Men like my father cannot die. They are with me still, real in memory as they were in flesh, loving and beloved forever. How green was my valley then.-Philip Dunne
9:05:17 PM 
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