Just another fishing story
Billie Shelton
When you spend time at a fishing resort, generally you go fishing. After all, that was the point of our little escape up north last week. Especially for my fisherman fanatic husband, who not only researched and booked the resort (where we had never been), but also readied the boat and motor, picked up night crawlers for bait, loaded minnow bucket and keeper and tackle box and hook getter and bug repellant and, of course, a half-dozen fishing poles. Believe me, one doesn't travel lightly to go fishing. But to him it's all worth it, and he doesn't complain for a second. It's all part of the ritual around fishing. As for me, fishing is something I can take or leave. I really like being outdoors in a boat on the water where it's peaceful and pretty, so it's OK with me if I don't catch anything. Besides, my husband often baits my hook and takes off any fish I might catch. You can be sure it's not like that for the fisherman I have known for more than a quarter-century now.
» Full StoryA place for my stuff
I wonder what they’ll do with his stuff.
George Carlin’s stuff, that’s got to be some interesting stuff. Some way interesting stuff from the ‘60s.
Lessons of love from a pet
It was one of those questions that teachers pose just to get their students thinking. And I guess it succeeded, because I was a senior in high school when a teacher posed a questions that still has me pondering.
» Full StoryA scout is prepared... and brave
Daniel learned about the terrible tornado disaster at the Little Sioux Boy Scout Camp shortly after it happened Thursday night. He heard me talking to Larry about it and came into the room, obviously distressed.
» Full StorySharing the flood misery of '08
My heart ached for people as we drove around surveying flood damage Sunday. It truly ached.
I knew it was bad when I heard my husband curse as soon as he looked out the window that morning.
Cruisin' Main on cheap gasoline
Cheap gasoline — a nearly forgotten commodity — was responsible for a lot of good times when I was a kid.
In 1965 Saturday night usually meant "cruisin' Main" — driving up and down Main Street all evening in the largest nearby town.


