It is hard to say what my most memorable fishing adventure with my grandfather would be. Could it be one of the times when I was six or eight hooked onto a catfish that I personally felt had the ability to pull me into the lake? Possibly, but maybe it was actually the hand packed picnic lunches that we shared every time we hit the water. Or could it be the times spent when my grandfather and I had to switch roles due to his age. Now I’m the one who drives us out to the lake, I’m the one lugging the tackle boxes down to the jetty, and I’m the one creeping down to the waters edge to land the big ones. My life is full of wonderful memories of fishing with my grandfather, but ask me to pick just one and I simply can’t. Perhaps it’s because those memories are not so much about fishing, but rather of time spent with family. And for my part, I find those memories far more cherished than any others.