Feature Story
Pass On the Fishing Heritage K
indness towards a child may still be remembered many years later. This column is my way of thanking a very special fisherman who was kind to a scrubby little kid almost 50 years ago. My buddy, Bob Guerra and I both lived to fish in those simple days when dad and mom still paid the bills and school grades were our biggest worry. Our homes were close to a Missouri lake and we made housewives angry daily by stomping through flower beds while reaching our best fishing spots.
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CONSERVATION FEDERATION
Painstaking hours of research uncovered cherished places where fish gobbled down baits offered on bronze-colored hooks like piranhas feeding in a blood bank. During our formative years, the fishing bug bit us when girls were still little more than an idle curiosity and generally pests. We earned money by mowing lawns, throwing hay bales or shoveling snow to buy fishing tackle.
