"My dad taught me everything I know. Unfortunately he didn't teach me everything he knows." ~ Al Unser.
“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I
could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one,
I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.” ~ Unknown but often attributed to Mark Twain
He pulled on the oars on a chilly (well, frigid) early
morning and the little rowboat, not so much glided as moved in fits and starts to a little spot
tucked into some reeds at the lake’s edge.
I would stare sleepily, trancelike at the water that swirled around the
paddles. Once at our spot he would tie
the boat off on a half-submerged tree and then he’d make sure I’d baited my
hood correctly and then would guide me through the cast. The reel zinged and then the little split
shot plopped into the water and then we waited.
That was Lake Merced, in the southwest corner of San Francisco. The lake is just inland from the ocean and is
often blanketed by fog that’s pushed in by a chill ocean breeze. In the middle of that lake on a little
rowboat it seemed like you were in the coldest damn place on Earth.
 |
| Classic Dad; book, pipe, easy chair and a little Cognac |
