I grew up fishing- excuse me... Fishin'.
My grandfather took my sister and I regularly. He was the man's man. An avid bird hunter, fisherman, fireworks pyromaniac, veteran, drinks at 4pm (cocktail hour), guns in a display case, truck and camper. He told many many stories that were based on his life and our deceased relatives. Living history with a serious deviation from accuracy. Artist's prerogitive?
He never got the grandsons he probably had wanted. Two tiny blondy girls were it. I am told that when we came along, his hard exterior melted. He loved toting us around in the old truck when we came to visit. My grandmother still worked back then and so he was the primary caregiver during the day.
He introduced us to chocolate... and to him I am forever grateful for that. ;) He made us a man's breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast every day. Later we would watch Hogan's Heroes or some John Wayne movie on TV with him. So, we thought he was pretty cool. Weren't all granddads like this?
Summer is rolling in quick around here. Makes me think of my late grandfather. Makes me miss him. My children never met him. They only have heard MY stories. He has become some legend and their eyes get wide when I tell of the good old days fishin' and campin' with him. I got the notion to get real serious about teaching my children to Fish this winter. Now the weather is nice and I'm itching to get out there and spend many days teaching my young padwans. My poles and gear are old and patheticly rusty. My husband took pity on my plight and we went out yesterday to get some newer stuff. Now I can galavant out into the great land of Fishatude and fish to my hearts content with all my homeschool-fem-mama fishousness and a baby strapped to my back. A new generation- without the beer.