I like fishing. I know this seems like an obvious statement from a woman who's husband has aspirations of becoming a professional fisherman, but my love started long before that. I believe it all started with my Granny Getz. When we stayed with her in the summer time there was nothing better than her saying " better go get us some worms from the tub". Under neath the big maple tree was an old galvanized wash tub full of dirt. On the surface of the rich black soil was an old burlap bag that was always kept moist. Under the burlap Granny would put vegetable scraps, grass clippings and coffee grounds. She was a composter before it was 'in'. Peel back the burlap and the musty, earthy smell was better than an expensive perfume! In the dirt was the fattest, plumpest, wriggling night crawlers in Whitman county. We would gingerly pull out the worms and put them in a coffee can that she had fastened with a wire handle. "I think its time to go fishin!" she would say. The hook on the back porch held 'the hat'. Granny's gardening and fishing hat was a big, faded green, straw floppy hat with a polyester ties. She would plop on that hat and cinch up the ties and fasten it into a bow underneath her chin.
I miss you fishin buddy!