“I remember you taking me fishing – on the banks, in the boat, by the river, and even out on the ice. I never really did like the ice. It scared me as a kid. It still scares me. I remember you telling me that if the ice started cracking to get to shore as quick as I could and not worry about you. That scared the hell out of me. And made me sad to think about. I didn’t understand then. I do now.” “I remember the smell of the old pull-string outboard and the guttural sounds of the bullfrogs on muggy summer nights. I remember when you and Uncle Paul and I went out on that lake up-north chasing bass, and I hooked you in the face with the lure. Boy, I thought that was the end of me, or at least the end of my fishing. It probably should have been.” Excerpt from the letter I just wrote my dad: https://www.allenoutside.com/post/dear-dad