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I remember opening day of Trout Season. My dad took me to Segregansett River on Williams St, Dighton, MA. I counted twenty cars along the road way. The scene was devestating. My spirits were low. I carried my can of worms made my way downstream away from everyone fishing arm to arm in the closest pools to the road. It was like I entered heaven. The sun came through the clouds, wind died down, gone were the sounds of people talking, birds started singing. I made my cast, didn't get hung up, worm drifted in the current. The magic of catching trout. Unfortunately in that time, we came from poverty flats. We kept what we caught and ate. That was 1953, I was nine years old.

About five years ago I started going back to all the places I fished as a kid. I have only met one person fishing. The crowds are all gone. No kids fishing. The trout are still there. Times are different I release all the fish I catch. I do get hung up in the trees when excited at a rise. It still a beautiful time to be on the water. It gives you time to think about things. It gives you time to take all the beauty in, a gift from God. It's also a Time to thank and talk to God.

About bass fishing. I don't get serious until July and August. I don't like the idea of fishing tournaments during the winter and spawning times - I feel they should be protected. Every time I catch a large or smallmouth I am amazed that these beautiful fish reproduce and thrive naturally and we all owe it to God and Sam Tisdale. And you my bass pond brothers, I am truly blessed at being a part of your family. It's cold today but don't worry God is in control and yes the world is crumbling financially, morally but - we are in His Care.