Perhaps the term "Gone Fishing" is as special to me as fishing itself. I was six months old when I had my first fishing trip. I since waded many rivers with my mother countless times. The frozen hands of early spring nor the heat and insects of summer would drive us from the river. In my teens, many times I would come home to find a note on the kitchen table, gone fishing food is in the fridge. The hat that we gave Mom for Christmas embroidered with gone fishing was off it's hook. She was somewhere on a river and I would not expect her home until well after dark.

Mom passed away in 2001 however her tradition and spirit lives on. Marked on rocks at her two favorite pools is GONE FISHING. To this day when fishing these pools I always feel a since of nostalgia. Few memories do I have as vivid as the memories of fishing with Mom on the first fishing day of spring. These memories will be the first tug on my line for many fishing years to come.

I had my first fishing rod at 3; at 10 I had my first gun and guitar and when I was 14 I had my first power saw and tractor.  I guess that just about tells the story because I still enjoy these items to this day.