I Fish, Therefore I am Not Here

Certainly the most defining virtue of my dad was his love of the outdoors. Anyone who ever knew him, knew this. I am extremely lucky in that my dad took the time to share his love of nature with me and my family. Many of these experiences were a blend of camping, boating and fishing.



The picture above is one of those early experiences. As you can see, if you are old enough to sit at the picnic table, you are old enough to go camping. The symbolism in this picture is just so thick -- I was spoon-fed nature from a very early age.

My dad loved it, and either by geneitcs or conditioning, I now love it too. I am so thankful to have had those experiences, and to have been able to share them with him. But most of all, I am thankful that my father taught me how to enjoy life with my family and my children -- through the outdoors.

I can still remember the first time he let me bait a hook. I can also remember the last time we went fishing togehter... and in between those two memories, I have thousands more.



I spent the week after my father's passing at his house in Santa Barbara. At his front door there is a doormat. On this doormat is a picture of a man in a boat, below it the words, "I FISH, THEREFORE I AM NOT HERE". I must have walked over that doormat about 100 times during my stay, and thousands of times before that. At some point within the last week, while I was crossing over this message I noticed myself smiling. It was at that point that I actually stared to balance the loss of my dad with the comefort that he is is a far better place.

Thanks for everything dad. I owe you so much, and I miss you even more. Save a couple of heavenly fish for the rest of us.