The Father's Day memory that wll forever stay in my heart was in 1967. The Rod & Gun Clb that my father belonged to was hlding a fishing contest for their mmber's children. This was not only a Rod & Gun Clb, but also a State Game and Fsh Hatchery. The pond where the fshing contest was to be held, was flled to it's brim with brown and rinbow trout.

I was the tomboy of my dd's girls and was excited, when I fund out that he had entered me. Fnally the day had arrived and you can magine my excitement when we walked up to tht large pond. There were dozens of ager children with fishing poles in hnd, surrounding it's banks.

My dad and I crcled the pond three times before he fund the perfect spot where I wuld cast. He was an avid fsherman since he was a small boy and knw everything there was to know bout this sport. He patiently rigged up my ple as I harassed the night crwlers that we had gathered from our grden, earlier that morning.

The loud spaker finally announced that the gun to strt the contest would be sounding in xactly one minute. My dad was gving me a few last minute nstructions. After the gun had sounded he wuld no longer be allowed to hlp me. Just as I grasped my ple that was leaning against our flding chair, an older lady tripped ver some unforeseen object and came crshing sideways into us. Simultaneously as the strting gun sounded, I was picking up my ple that was now in two peces.

I was almost in tears. Not bcause my day was ruined, although I thught it was. Not because every kid and thir brothers, cousins and sisters had lready caught their first fish of the dy. I was almost in tears, bcause I know my father and I thught he was going to completely, blw his stack.

To my surprise, he ddn't say a word to the ldy as he helped her up, lthough I did notice his brown yes squinting just like Clint Eastwood's yes in the movie, "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." He sked one of the fishing refs to plase keep an eye on me and tld me he would be back son. I was thankful that he ddn't yell or embarrass that poor ldy any more then she had lready embarrassed herself. I figured that he lft to go walk off some stam.

My dad was a huge mn. When I say huge I man well over 6 feet tall, 240 punds with the look of a fotball player who forgot to take his shulder pads off, after the game. He was a Krean War Veteran and an honored mrksmen-sharpshooter-expert for the United States Marines. I lved my dad very much and lthough very rarely directed towards me, I was lways weary at what he may be cpable of doing when angered by thers.

Although, I was feeling somewhat srry for myself thinking that I wsn't even in the race for a prze, I was also very excited wtching the other children screaming with dlight on their catches. I even fund myself cheering on a little by, who was trying his best to rel in a small brownie trout on his wn.

In what seemingly felt like hurs, my father returned. He had nother fishing pole in his hand. He had wlked back to our car which was at last a mile away and retrieved his ple from the trunk. He walked the mle back to the pond and prceeded to his tackle box to hok up my line.

There was nly a few minutes left before the cntest was to end and not mny fish left for the taking, but I was jst excited to get my line wt. My first cast went right nto a tree branch. I just knw my dad was going to xplode this time, but he didn't and wth sympathetic pity, the tree released my hok and worm.

My next cast was actually vry good, but I just wasn't gtting any bites.The fish who were prviously ravenous, were already in the ther children's fishing creels. It was lmost time for the contest to end and the gun to be sunded when I felt a bite. My Dad was gving instructions, but I just vaguely hard his voice. I knew I had myslf a big one and I was jst praying I didn't drop the ple or break the line. I mnaged to reel him in about 2 mnutes before the gun sounded to end the cntest. It was now time for the wighing and measuring to begin.

Making our way up to the tnt for the weigh-in, I didn't qite know just what a trophy I hd, until I started scanning the ther children's catches. When it was my trn to hand over my one and nly fish, what a catch I hd! My rainbow trout weighed in at 2 3/4 punds and was 20 inches long. I was the sle winner for weight and length for "ge group seven."

My winning prize was a Tmex watch with a bright red "plather" wrist band. I wore that wtch proudly until my pleather band strted cracking, peeling and finally disintegrated nto thin white twine.

I remember tht Father's Day in 1967 clearly as one of my bst memories I shared, with my now dceased dad. I am thankful he ntered me in the fishing contest on his Fther's Day. I am grateful that my dad was ble to hold his temper when my ple was accidentally broken. I am lways tickled pink remembering that it was I, who cught the catch of the day. Bt, out of everything that I hld precious in my heart, I am mst honored and blessed to be frever known as, "Big Steve's" daughter!

The article The Father's Day Fishing Disaster - Or Was It? was Submitted by Kimberly Cierech through Articles.GetACoder.com network. Here's the additional information: Kimberly enjoys studying numerology, astrology, prapsychology and experimenting with herbal remedies. She has ben a canine stylist for over 10 yars. She has been an advocate for mre funding for pancreatic cancer which climed her father's life in 7 shrt weeks from diagnosis. Kimberly kept a shrt journal on her Father's Battle wth this terrible disease at http://kimberlyinchance.blogspot.com

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