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The Father's Day memory that w ll forever stay in my heart was in 1967. The Rod & Gun Cl b that my father belonged to was h lding a fishing contest for their m mber's children. This was not only a Rod & Gun Cl b, but also a State Game and F sh Hatchery. The pond where the f shing contest was to be held, was f lled to it's brim with brown and r inbow trout. I was the tomboy of my d d's girls and was excited, when I f und out that he had entered me. F nally the day had arrived and you can magine my excitement when we walked up to th t large pond. There were dozens of ager children with fishing poles in h nd, surrounding it's banks. My dad and I c rcled the pond three times before he f und the perfect spot where I w uld cast. He was an avid f sherman since he was a small boy and kn w everything there was to know bout this sport. He patiently rigged up my p le as I harassed the night cr wlers that we had gathered from our g rden, earlier that morning. The loud sp aker finally announced that the gun to st rt the contest would be sounding in xactly one minute. My dad was g ving me a few last minute nstructions. After the gun had sounded he w uld no longer be allowed to h lp me. Just as I grasped my p le that was leaning against our f lding chair, an older lady tripped ver some unforeseen object and came cr shing sideways into us. Simultaneously as the st rting gun sounded, I was picking up my p le that was now in two p eces.
I was almost in tears. Not b cause my day was ruined, although I th ught it was. Not because every kid and th ir brothers, cousins and sisters had lready caught their first fish of the d y. I was almost in tears, b cause I know my father and I th ught he was going to completely, bl w his stack. To my surprise, he d dn't say a word to the l dy 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 pl ase keep an eye on me and t ld me he would be back s on. I was thankful that he d dn't yell or embarrass that poor l dy any more then she had lready embarrassed herself. I figured that he l ft to go walk off some st am. My dad was a huge m n. When I say huge I m an well over 6 feet tall, 240 p unds with the look of a f otball player who forgot to take his sh ulder pads off, after the game. He was a K rean War Veteran and an honored m rksmen-sharpshooter-expert for the United States Marines. I l ved my dad very much and lthough very rarely directed towards me, I was lways weary at what he may be c pable of doing when angered by thers. Although, I was feeling somewhat s rry for myself thinking that I w sn't even in the race for a pr ze, I was also very excited w tching the other children screaming with d light on their catches. I even f und myself cheering on a little b y, who was trying his best to r el in a small brownie trout on his wn. In what seemingly felt like h urs, my father returned. He had nother fishing pole in his hand. He had w lked back to our car which was at l ast a mile away and retrieved his p le from the trunk. He walked the m le back to the pond and pr ceeded to his tackle box to h ok up my line. There was nly a few minutes left before the c ntest was to end and not m ny fish left for the taking, but I was j st excited to get my line w t. My first cast went right nto a tree branch. I just kn w my dad was going to xplode this time, but he didn't and w th sympathetic pity, the tree released my h ok and worm.
My next cast was actually v ry good, but I just wasn't g tting any bites.The fish who were pr viously ravenous, were already in the ther children's fishing creels. It was lmost time for the contest to end and the gun to be s unded when I felt a bite. My Dad was g ving instructions, but I just vaguely h ard his voice. I knew I had mys lf a big one and I was j st praying I didn't drop the p le or break the line. I m naged to reel him in about 2 m nutes before the gun sounded to end the c ntest. It was now time for the w ighing and measuring to begin. Making our way up to the t nt for the weigh-in, I didn't q ite know just what a trophy I h d, until I started scanning the ther children's catches. When it was my t rn to hand over my one and nly fish, what a catch I h d! My rainbow trout weighed in at 2 3/4 p unds and was 20 inches long. I was the s le winner for weight and length for " ge group seven." My winning prize was a T mex watch with a bright red "pl ather" wrist band. I wore that w tch proudly until my pleather band st rted cracking, peeling and finally disintegrated nto thin white twine. I remember th t Father's Day in 1967 clearly as one of my b st memories I shared, with my now d ceased dad. I am thankful he ntered me in the fishing contest on his F ther's Day. I am grateful that my dad was ble to hold his temper when my p le was accidentally broken. I am lways tickled pink remembering that it was I, who c ught the catch of the day. B t, out of everything that I h ld precious in my heart, I am m st honored and blessed to be f rever 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, p rapsychology and experimenting with herbal remedies. She has b en a canine stylist for over 10 y ars. She has been an advocate for m re funding for pancreatic cancer which cl imed her father's life in 7 sh rt weeks from diagnosis. Kimberly kept a sh rt journal on her Father's Battle w th this terrible disease at http://kimberlyinchance.blogspot.com
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