Some of my favorite times with Dad were when we went fishing. There was a small pond near DuBois Pennsylvania where we would go in the summers. We went fishing with Uncle Russell in Kentucky. We went fishing in the Mississippi when we visited Granddad. We went fishing in Lake Success when we moved to Porterville California. But my favorite story about fishing is when we went fishing in Maryland.

We were staying in a cabin that belonged to one of my great aunts and they had a pier out into the lake. We would go there in the evenings and it was nice and cool. As a matter of fact it got a bit chilly sometimes and I remember wearing a jacket. Twilight was the best time for fishing. All the bugs were out and we would be busy swatting bugs with one hand and holding the fishing pole with the other. I was nine and this was great. We generally caught a few bluegill and we would cook them up fresh for dinner. Dad taught me to clean the fish and mom let me fry them myself.

One evening I was putting on my jacket, swatting mosquitoes and holding onto my fishing pole all at the same time when I hooked something. It tugged and I tugged back. It tugged again and I went into the water with the pole. I sank to the bottom and looked around at all the stuff floating around me. This was interesting, but I thought it best to head back up to the surface and get some air. The problem was my boots and jeans and jacket and all the stuff that a boy keeps in his pockets added quite a bit of weight. So I jumped and I just made it. I grabbed some air, let out a shout and went back to the bottom. Now I am not sure what I expected to happen, but going back to the bottom was not it. And while it was fascinating seeing the lake from down there it was starting to get dark and I thought it best to get back to the cabin fairly soon. I jumped again, flapped my arms a bit, grabbed as much air as I could, yelled once more and sank to the bottom again.

By now I was getting cold. And this was not where I wanted to be. So once more I jumped up, gasped for air, yelled something, and then I kept floating upward. Now this was a surprise. I figured I was about due to be going back down again by now, but instead I was still going upward. Dad had grabbed hold of my jacket and he was trying to get me back onto the dock. Once my arms made contact I pushed up and slide back onto the dock. My teeth were chattering and I was about as cold as I could be. But somehow I asked Dad what took him so long to pull me back out. He put his jacket around me and we started walking up to the cabin. As we walked he showed me the biggest catfish I had ever seen. And he explained that he had to land the catfish before he reeled me back in because he knew I would not want that catfish to get away.

That was the very best catfish I ever tasted.