Dad & me, early '50s
I enjoyed many fishing trips in bygone days with Dad.
And I treasure every memory of the happy times we had.
We fished the Crystal Basin, Ice House Dam and Union Valley,
We’d fish till we were tuckered out, and then old Dad would rally!
We fished all day at Girlie Creek, from Wentworth Springs to Loon,
Lost track of time and stumbled back assisted by the moon,
High in the Sierra’s where the peaks rise up forever,
As though the fleecy clouds above, their summits would dissever.
We only had one motor bike back when we was thrifty!
So both of us rode double on my Dad’s old Honda 50.
We fished above the timberline, amid grey granite boulders,
Way Back before we had a bike, and I rode on Daddy’s shoulders,
We spent cold nights at Wright’s Lake too, sheltered by the trees,
And marveling at the antics of the Jeepers’ Jamboree’s,
Fly fished in Desolation among its pristine lakes,
With blistered toes and sunburned nose, smiling despite the aches.
We outsmarted fish at upper Blue, with snowdrifts all around,
And mosquitoes buzzing in our ears till they made a roaring sound,
Trudged through Mountain Misery till our shoes were black as tar,
Trolled all day with the Evinrude and smeared Zemacol by the jar!
We've Luncheoned on the running board of Dad’s old Chevy truck,
Shared cold coffee and some crackers, and counted it as luck,
Returned to camp with limits filled and feasted on the trout,
And returned with creels empty and for supper went without.
I cherish every memory, but when all is said and done,
It’s not about the fishing, but my father and his son.
It’s about an inconceivable bond, an indestructible tie.
That will be my greatest joy in life, until the day I die.
Thank you God for memories of the happy times we’ve known.
Thanks for all my blessing and the kindness that you’ve shown.
Thanks for the very best childhood that a fellow ever had.
But thank you most of all dear Lord, for memories of my dad.