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AtLast · 06-10-2011, 02:29 PM

Twenty-eight years ago today, my Dad passed away. Although I miss him for many reasons and have oodles of fine memories of a fine human being, fishing with him is at the top of the list.

He taught me to fish at a young age- probably starting at 4-5 or so. We were a camping and fishing kind of family and also did abalone and eel fishing back in the day when the SF Bay was clean and abundant with fish and sea food.

On Saturdays my Dad took me and sometimes my brother (he was a lot older and usually wanted to do teen-guy stuff with his teen-guy friends by then) fishing so my Mom had at least a morning off without kids around. I loved going to our favorite fishing rocks off Tiburon's then working railroad station (this was back when Tiburon was pretty much a dead little place with a couple of local bars and the train station and was completely working class). Of course, we had my Dad’s hunting dog with us (always a German Short-Haired Pointer that he rotated naming Queenie or Junior throughout the years). Queenie Number One went fishing in Tiburon with us in those early days.

Eventually "our rock" had a small deck built around it with a bridge to walk over to it and was proclaimed as a kid's fishing area. My Dad and some of the other neighborhood Dad's built it and there was a small dedication.

The best fishing story for me was when I didn't have my own fishing pole yet (I was about 4-5, I think) and we were on a family camping trip in the Hope Valley area near Lake Tahoe. My Dad picked-up a fairly long willow branch and just attached some line and a hook and sinker with a worm for me to use. I think he was just trying to give something to do so he could fish. BAM- within a minute of my sticking the line down in a craggy area of the brook we were near, I pulled out a big German Brown trout! My Dad almost fell over laughing as I ended up with the biggest fish caught that day. That year, Junior Number One was right there with us taking in some sun shine on the bank. For our next camping trip, I had my own rod, a small tackle box and a spinning reel along with a fishing vest and a net! I was in seventh heaven!!

I think of my Dad often and am so grateful to have wonderful memories of him and our time together doing things like this. I do miss him even now.

06-10-2011, 02:29 PM	#7
AtLast Infamous Member How Do You Identify?: Woman Preferred Pronoun?: HER - SHE Relationship Status: Relating Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: CA & AZ I'm a Snowbird Posts: 5,408 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 11,826 Thanked 10,828 Times in 3,199 Posts Rep Power: 21474857	Twenty-eight years ago today, my Dad passed away. Although I miss him for many reasons and have oodles of fine memories of a fine human being, fishing with him is at the top of the list. He taught me to fish at a young age- probably starting at 4-5 or so. We were a camping and fishing kind of family and also did abalone and eel fishing back in the day when the SF Bay was clean and abundant with fish and sea food. On Saturdays my Dad took me and sometimes my brother (he was a lot older and usually wanted to do teen-guy stuff with his teen-guy friends by then) fishing so my Mom had at least a morning off without kids around. I loved going to our favorite fishing rocks off Tiburon's then working railroad station (this was back when Tiburon was pretty much a dead little place with a couple of local bars and the train station and was completely working class). Of course, we had my Dad’s hunting dog with us (always a German Short-Haired Pointer that he rotated naming Queenie or Junior throughout the years). Queenie Number One went fishing in Tiburon with us in those early days. Eventually "our rock" had a small deck built around it with a bridge to walk over to it and was proclaimed as a kid's fishing area. My Dad and some of the other neighborhood Dad's built it and there was a small dedication. The best fishing story for me was when I didn't have my own fishing pole yet (I was about 4-5, I think) and we were on a family camping trip in the Hope Valley area near Lake Tahoe. My Dad picked-up a fairly long willow branch and just attached some line and a hook and sinker with a worm for me to use. I think he was just trying to give something to do so he could fish. BAM- within a minute of my sticking the line down in a craggy area of the brook we were near, I pulled out a big German Brown trout! My Dad almost fell over laughing as I ended up with the biggest fish caught that day. That year, Junior Number One was right there with us taking in some sun shine on the bank. For our next camping trip, I had my own rod, a small tackle box and a spinning reel along with a fishing vest and a net! I was in seventh heaven!! I think of my Dad often and am so grateful to have wonderful memories of him and our time together doing things like this. I do miss him even now.