Fishin'
When I was seven, I began visiting my Gramparents in Nebraska every summer. The highlight of each visit was the fishing trips we would take together.
We would pile in the DeVille, drive out to small ponds in cow pastures in North Central Nebraska, and fish for pan fish - BlueGill, Bass, and the occasional BullHead or CatFish.
Being out the boat, with my Grampa, as a twichy pre-pubescent was a great lesson in patience. If I was tapping the side of the boat, or jerking my line around, and shifting about in my seat - "Quit it! You'll scare the fish away."
I had to learn to sit stoically, stare off into the brush, watching the turkey buzzards and prarie chickens, everready for that telltale jerk.
There were sometimes we would catch nothing, or one or two fish at best. One time, we caught 65 bluegill in one sitting.
Gramma was also a lesson in patience and stoicism, she would sit in the car and read Reader's Digest all day while we were fishing.
but it was certainly beautiful - especially the place we visited most, the pond.
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