The other day I posted a picture of dad’s jon boat on the roof of my van. These are the hooks of some fishing lures, also my dads. When mom and I were cleaning out the garage I came across dad’s old fishing vest. The mice or squirrels had gotten to it first and much of it was shredded. There were some lures in the pockets, though, and a few weights. I took them before putting the remains of the vest into the garbage. This evening I was looking at them and remembering fishing with my dad. I didn’t really have the patience for fishing that he had but I think I’ve gained some over the years. The thought of sitting by a lake or river or sitting in a boat with nothing going on except the occasional cast and even more occasional bite sounds really good now.