This is a true tale.

I have always loved fishing. Some of my fondest memories are when I was a boy catching fish on the shores of Lake Michigan and Green Bay. I started out as a 9 year old crappie expert at Ironton–at-the-Ferry not far from Petosky, MI. My buddy Mark and I would round up a couple crates of empty bottles. We would take them across the Ferry to this small country store and exchange them for credit. The shopping list included one spool of mono filament line, a small bag of hooks and one of sinkers, a candy bar and maybe some penny candy. I always wanted a Coke but that was 25 cents and if I didn’t have enough you could get a bottle of Verner’s ginger ale for a dime. I didn’t like it as much but it was better than water. Now, I prefer ginger ale to Coke, time heals all. I live in southern California now and I was shocked when I saw my old friend Verner’s on the shelf one day. It was like hearing that old college song and the memories fill your head. Now, I prefer ginger ale and never touch Coke. My God, that was 50 years ago. Back to the story.  After  getting the mornings supplies we were back across the ferry to the cottages. In the ditch on the way home grew long, straight, perfectly tapered dogwood for Huckleberry Finn rods. With my boy-scout multi-knife, the one with the folding spoon, we’d have three rods ready in no time. I learned early that grasshoppers were better than worms. I filled my mayonnaise jar from the old lady neighbor’s tall grass behind her house. Fifty years later my Mom revealed to me that the old lady was Ernest Hemmingway’s sister. “How do you know, mom”? She said, “oh, she made sure everyone knew.”

Fast forward to today. Amazing enough I now still fish with wooden rods. I also make my living writing, I may move to the keys soon, been married a few times. I used to smoke cigars but I cannot drink, never could. I do like the local Hemingway's Bar, good food.