y father was a carpenter.......and I
suppose that's why he was so muscular... he was a small man....a small french man...small,
but very strong for his stature.... and I smile remembering him... I loved him so... I was
daddy's girl... I adored my father... he was forever giving me horsie rides on his
shoulders.... and he would hang upside down from my gym set by his legs....and swing me
with his hands.... I loved that... and nothing smelled as good to me as the smell of my
father when he'd hold me on his lap... quite often in summer my dad would take me
fishing...sometimes my mother would come along...and then my brother who is 4 years
younger than me would come along too... but I loved it most when he'd pick just me up
after work...and we'd go fishing together.....by ourselves... he would sing to me as we
drove in the car.... and he would buy me a treat at the bait shop... and then I'd sit next
to him on the concrete under the bridge.... while we fished... sometimes I'd get a fish on
my line too.....and he'd bring my fish in for me... I don't remember ever catching
anything worth keeping... and when I fish today, it matters not if a fish is on the
line... fishing is more about being and living....with your surroundings...with the sounds
of nature...and the fresh air... and sun on your face.... at least for me, it is... *s*