by randal Sumner
Our big news this Thanksgiving is that Liz and I became
grandparents for the first time. My daughter Anna and her husband George had a
girl, Emma. Emma is pretty cute, well maybe really cute and I have the pictures
to prove it. If you’d like to see a few its no problem, no problem at all.
the birth, a friend of mine gave me an journal notebook and suggested I could
write down my thoughts about fly fishing so after I was gone Emma could read
Where am I going?
It was a nice gesture, but I doubt anyone would spend valuable
time reading my inner thoughts, even if I had any. The truth is if I had any
inner thoughts I’d never write them down as in SOMEONE MIGHT READ THEM. When
you put words to paper it’s a dicey thing.
I like to
think that after I’ve gone to the Big River in the Sky, Liz and Emma will have
a yard sale and get rid of my fishing gear. I can imagine a crowd of young
fishermen poking through my gear, looking for treasures, all the while
thinking, this guy was a professional Troutbum? Man this stuff is
trashed, a couple pairs of nasty waders, worn boots, a filthy old vest, beat up
reels and two or three nicely abused fly rods.
I’m planning to take good stuff
with me; all the years spent with the sun on my back and all those gorgeous
rivers in front of me. That’s the part of fishing that is most important to me
now. Trust me I am way over my lifetime trout limit.
It would be
impossible for me to explain in words all the beautiful places and whacked out
characters that have become the fabric of my fishing journey. I have some
snapshots pinned to the wall in my fly tying room, not very many fish pictures,
mostly grinning greasy haired Troutbums living large.
What kind of example is that for a granddaughter? No I’d better
keep this stuff to myself, unless….. Emma decides she’d like to go fly fishing
with old gramps. You just never know.
One last thing Emma, at the yard
sale get top dollar for the Wheatley fly boxes they’ll be vintage by then.