my dad was a flyfisherman.I have a couple of his rods.My brother and sisters got the other rods,His rods were special to us.
3AM in a local emergancy room--the clock was ticking-Jimmy T was slumped over in a wheel chair,he was feeling bad,he had never been a talker,his kidneys had,had it.To my surpise he straightened up a bit,and told me he did not fear death,he just dreaded it,because there would no more steaks,baked potato's and salad,no more aggrevation listening to the sound of little feet running through the house,and no more mornings and evenings fishing for trout in the good streams.My uncle Rus walked through the double doors of the ER,Dad said"Well Russell you almost made in time for the funeral"