Summertime with Norman Rockwell

Fisherman's Paradise

I love Norman Rockwell's work.
You've seen that before.

I thought I would reminisce a little
about time with my Grandad and the
whole family as we would spend time
in Western, PA...
fishin' in the summertime.

I could put my own worms on the hook!
Grubs too!
Not sure I could do it today....

We would pile into the car...
more people than seat belts, most
of the time, and head off for
Tamarack Lake. I couldn't get
there without a map now.

It would be early evening because
the fish bite best around dusk...
so do the mosquitoes!

The ride in the car was a noisy
but harmonious one as you never,
ever went anywhere in the car with
Grandad without singing...in harmony.

The rowboat was waiting at the dock and
there would be a bit of a struggle as
we chose who would go out in the boat
and who would start their adventure lakeside.

Fish Finders

Gone Fishing
I imagine Grandad looked a little more like this on the days
he went fishing by himself. No pipe...but this
looks an awful lot like my Grandad. His shirts were
always mint green and he always wore suspenders.

You never fished at the point you parked your
car. The fishing was better on the other
side of the lake. Always! The fishing by the
car was the last thing you did before you left.
Kind of a "just in case" there were still fish
left.

So, there we would be: Aunts, Uncles, Cousins,
Moms, Dads, Grandma and Grandad all headed out
with lawn chairs, fishing poles, bait boxes and
a whole head full of imagination. We would hike
over the dam and around the lake until we were at
the exact spot where the fish were biting this
evening. It was better not to question it.
It just was the spot!

Adventurers Between Adventures



At least one time this was an opportunity for
some contemplation by my very young brother.
He was riding on my Dad's shoulders when
out of the blue his voice popped up,
"Right is right, right Dad?
And wrong is wrong, right Dad?"
You never know what these little ones are thinking
or where it might be expressed.

Soon we would be reeling in perch and bluegill.
Exclamations over each and every one. A competition
as to who could catch the most and the biggest.

Finally, the sun would sink and we would make that
trek back around over the dam to the car. The trip
home was a lot like the ride there...albeit a bit more
subdued, still filled with songs in harmony
and the satisfaction of knowing there would be fresh
fish for breakfast.

Going and Coming
I still don't like to eat fish.
Sorry Grandad...Grandma...