Fishing and old men

As I began to get old – when and how I cannot explain, I found that my love of fishing grew.  It seemed that the sound of water slapping against the pier was song that my soul needed to hear.  My mind would wander as my fingers waited for the tug of a fish bite on the line which would bring me back into the moment of battle between man and fish.  Poetry in action was the only definition that really applied.

Many of my trips would start with the morning cup of coffee, two strips of bacon, three eggs, three pancakes and a layer of maple syrup.  I would then kiss Anita, head to the garage to get into my  truck with my gear and start off to the pier.  Being old is not a bad thing after all, and I got to fish!

Now that I find my self slowing down I look back and enjoy my memories.  I tell my grandkids lots of fishing stories and buy them all sorts of fishing gear.  I have taught them most of my fishing secrets and tricks.

We all need a way to find tranquility and experience peace in our busy life’s.  Fishing is one of the ways I find it in mine.  Would you like to share your story?  I would love to post it here so all our friends can share in it.  Do you have a recommendation for my site?

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