However at the age of 85 dad was still getting around fairly good. We had given up on our annual spring red eye fishing trips up on the upper part of the river as dad’s balance was a bit wobbly. Walking logs on drifts in the river could have easily caused a problem. 

But even sitting on a creek bank or a boat seat some things would go downhill and I would have to fish him out. One such episode we were in the Jon boat and Dad started getting stiff as arthritis was setting in. He set a five gallon bucket on top of the seat and proceeded to fish. On about his third cast it happened as I had warned him. All I saw was elbows and heels going overboard. I thought for a second he stuck his head in the mud on bottom but he popped up with no problem. I l knew he lost his pole and after going to the bank, I jumped in and retrieved his pole. Then about thirty minutes later he realized his new glasses were also on bottom of the pond. I jumped back in barefoot and found them also. 

As life went on, fishing became more difficult as he had trouble remembering how to operate a reel but after a couple fish hit the bank he picked up just like old times except he would tire out quickly. The spring I was able to take him, I had hopes of him catching a fish for each year of life. And at the age of 92 we managed to do it.

Of course fishing wasn’t the only memory as I tried to take him buck hunting every fall. The later years mainly consisted of driving up to a food plot and letting him sit in the truck and hope for something to walk out. Occasionally one would but he was unable to bring home the meat. 

Memories will last a lifetime and I will never regret spending time with dad. Many kids don’t get to spend fifty years with their parents as I have. Time is short, always try to make the best of it.