Hello My Dear Great Ones,
One of the most gifted athletes I ever knew was an excellent fly fisherman. He was an expert. I had the honor of taking him fly fishing a few times. While I struggled with the co-ordination of whipping the fly fishing rod back and forth, the expert made his line sing as he whipped it back in forth in perfect rhythm. When he let the line go it would hover over the fishing hole like a fluttering insect and gently drop into the water. A classic lure for a hungry fish. And this fly fishing expert caught a lot of fish, cause not only did he cast the perfect line, but he was a predator deftly scooting from rock to rock in the stream, his mind processing every ripple, every still pool, for signs of his prey.
Meanwhile I was untangling my line from a tree and had slipped on some rocks soaking my feet. Yet the fly fishing expert, after getting a good picture of his catch would let it go, after gently, like a surgeon, extracting the hook out of the fish's lip. That expert fly fisherman was my son Erik. I am so thankful for the times I got to go fishing with him. I am thankful for the conversations we had driving to the rivers and creeks that he got to know so well. Those are memories no one can take away. They are mine and they are gold. Rest in peace Erik and I believe your section of heaven is a paradise of pristine clear creeks and streams with dramatic mountain views, excellent caddis hatches, and plenty of huge rainbow trout to keep you happy forever.
Love adios and ping on!
Dirk/Dad
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