Remembering my Dad on Father's Day

Dad had much difficulty getting from the dock into the 16' Larson.  Age and arthritis having taken their toll.  After setting down his cane, and getting to both knees, with the help of a grandson, he got first one, then both legs in the boat.  He took his customary middle seat.

 

A short ride took us to one of our favorite "bass places."  Dad pointed to an area no more than two feet wide between two sets of lily pads, about 30 yards in front of the boat.  His cast, as always, landed directly in the small target.  As he taught us, the top water lure sat silent until all the ripples had disappeared.  A twitch of the line and a bass struck.  A few minutes later a three pounder was landed, admired, and as we were also taught, released. 

 

I will make my way late this summer, on the 60th anniversary of my first trip, to the same northern Minnesota Lake.  Dad won't be able to make this trip; he passed in his sleep last year.

 

Dad would be proud that I too, can hit that same two foot target.  And that I am teaching my sons and grandsons to be able to do the same. 

 

One day, with a little luck, I'll join Dad in heaven.  I'm sure he'll be very busy teaching the angels the finer points of bass fishing.

 

I miss you Dad.

 

Don Flassing

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