My grandpa (Papa), was a wonderful man. I know most people would say the same about their own grandpa. Mine was an outdoor man. He especially loved fishing. My dad has told me that when he was a boy my Papa would ask him to tell me grandma he wanted to go fishing so my Papa would be allowed to go take him, (not my dad’s idea). He was a great fisherman too. There could be 30 other boats out at the lake, no one catching a single thing, but my Papa would have his full limit. I always loved going fishing with him. I can’t remember a single time that we didn’t catch something, but it was the time he spent showing us how to put the worm on the hook, how to cast, how to reel it in, and how he always took the fish off for me because I was afraid of how much it wiggled around; that really makes the memory. It’s those memories of him sitting next to me, his hands on mine, teaching me, that I miss most.
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