by Rick Altland

Created on: February 24, 2007   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

My Dad "shipped out" for Germany, with the 101st Airborne, about 2 weeks after I was born.

When he returned home, I was 3 years old, and wasn't at all sure I liked this "stranger" who had come to live with me and Mom.

Shortly after his return, my Aunt and Uncle and their 3 boys came for a visit, and we had a picnic along the Shenandoah River.

Dad and Uncle Paul were fishing in the river, and I was fascinated with that process.

I was sitting on the ground between them, when Dad handed me his rod and showed me how to crank the reel.

In just about a minute, I had landed my first fish !

It was a "Sunny" about 4" long.

My Dad took it off the hook, and wanted me to take it, but I was afraid to touch it.

Back in those days, Parents weren't worried about "traumatizing" their kids, they were more concerned that the kids learned to do as they were told.

So, when I refused to touch the Sunny, Dad just stuck it in my pants pocket, and left me to my own devices.

Needless to say, I came out of those pants, and right now !

But Dad refused to solve my problem for me, and wouldn't let my Mom interfere, either.

Eventually, I got up nerve enough to take the fish out of my pocket and toss it back in the river.

A few minutes later, safely reinstalled in my fish slimed pants, Dad called me over and showed me another fish that he'd just caught.

By now I had nothing to lose, so I gingerly touched it with my finger, and Dad showed me how to hold it so the spines in the Dorsal fin wouldn't prick my hand.

By the end of the day, I was an old hand at fish handling and wanted to go again tomorrow.

That was nearly 50 years ago, and I still want to go fishing again tomorrow.

This is my earliest memory of my Dad, and one of my most cherished.

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