memory

With all my recent memory issues as of late (as I'm told), it's somewhat ironic that I take a minute to send out one of my favorite memories with our Grandpa Balmer. Early in our marriage, Melody and I spent a long weekend up at their cabin near Chrystal Mountain. On friday night, Grandpa and I decided to go fishing 'before dinner" – those quotes serve a purpose in a minute. We got the boat to the north western portion of the lake where he had been having some luck recently. After an hour or so, and with neither of us pulling in anything bigger than what could be used to catch other fish, we decided to head in for some dinner. Just before pulling up to the dock, a large lake bass jumped in a high arc in front of the boat. He turned around to me with a smile and I said, "well we HAVE to go get that first!" So, the hunt began. The fish would jump, mocking our lack of ability to catch it, we'd get closer to his last leap…on and on, for the next several hours. We finally abandoned our quest when we realized that it was so dark outside that we couldn't see the dock. Taking some paddles out, we both squinted (no, we didn't have our flashlights either) to see the edge of the dock somewhere in the blackness. While that may sound like just any ordinary tale of the one that got away to you, what ensued was an ongoing trek to catch that bass. The story would be told and retold for years between he and I. Finally, late in the summer of 04, Grandpa snagged the bass. Fitting, and typical that he was the hunter and won. I'll miss him.