I have to admit I’ve been upset by the stories I’ve been reporting, these past couple of days. So I think it’s time for a little stroll down Memory Lane.
When Patty and I were first married, we used to go fishing with my father. He was the most modest of men–but hum baby, could he catch fish! You could have the whole Navesink River full of people catching nothing, but Dad would be hauling them in one after another. The one time we went on a party boat, he won the pool.
But usually we settled for a rowboat, and there we were, two of us catching zilch and him reeling in the fish. We had a lot of nice suppers, thanks to his skill.
It’s very cold today, and snowing. I don’t know why, but it evokes very nice memories of sunny days, calm water, and my daddy catching fish like it was the easiest thing in the world.
When I was a boy, and he worked at the Ford plant, my father, in the summer, used to like to drive out to Farrington Lake before sundown (daylight savings in force) and do a spot of fishing. He always brought my brother and me. I can see him standing there, casting his bait, catching perch and catfish, and letting them go because they were small and we’d already had our supper.
Oh, to do it again! But I have a feeling that that’s one of the good things God has in store for us, once we’re all together in His Kingdom.