February 17, 2003
At the ripe young age of 3 or 4, my father took me on my first fishing trip. We went perch jerking in his old wooden, V bottom boat on the Lake of the Pines in East Texas. After returning home with a stringer of perch, dad told me it was time to clean the fish. It was then that I took off down the hall where my parents found me in the bathroom with a bar of soap in hand, scrubbing those little guys. I’ve been hooked on fishing ever since.
