My grandparents were from the depression era. They didn't waste anything. I remember my grandmother using a paper towel and then laying it out flat to dry, because she could use it at least two more times before it wasn't any good.

They cooked huge dinners for the family and I can assure you that whatever went on your plate was eaten. It was a waste not want not dinner table. I like to think some of that wore off on me, and I try my best not to be too wasteful. I admit that in this fast food, one use, disposable world we live in I have been let's just say less than vigilant at times. I also feel a tinge of guilt when I don't save, because I know that my grandparents look at me from where they are and shake their heads at me because I didn't use that paper towel more than once.

I bring that up to say this. My grandfather didn't waste time doing things that weren't going to accomplish something. It just wasn't in his nature. He planted a garden because it was wasteful to buy at the store what you could grow in your backyard. He hunted because it was wasteful to buy at a restaurant what he could cook at home. The same thing held true for fishing. I do not enjoy fishing, it's just not something I ever developed the patience to appreciate I suppose. However when my grandfather wanted to go fishing, I definitely wanted to be with him because I enjoyed our time together.

His favorite fishing spot was some grimy old canal about 30 minutes from our town. My favorite fishing spot was Manzanita lake, and that was far further than 30 minutes away. Needless to say we went to the grimy canal bank more often than the lake. When we did go to the lake though it was a great trip.

I can remember waking up around 4 in the morning and I could hear my grandfather cooking in the kitchen. He was scrambling up eggs and cooking hotdogs. That was our lunch for the trip and I was excited everytime I smelled those eggs and dogs. We would leave the house around 4:30 and take the slow drive ( he was old and drove very very slow) to the lake. It was a good 2 hour drive and the whole way there he would tell me about how things were back when he wasa young man. How the roads had changed and the old stores that used to dot the highway where we were passing. I could almost see it as we drove past.

Now the lake was a catch and release facility. Meaning...yep you guessed it...you don't keep em....barbless hooks and fake lures....Which just meant that I didn't get to catch worms in the back yard the day before. Because at the canal we brought worms. No sense paying for bait at the store that you can get out of your own back yard. So we would reach the lake and make our walk to "the spot". This was the exact same spot we went to every single time we went. Nobody was ever there and I could never figure that out. It was a perfect spot. There was a big shady tree not 10 feet from the water's edge. and the shade went out in the water for about 5 feet. We would set up out chairs and fish for a few hours. By the way we never in all the years we fished there ever caught even one fish. so I guess that explains the reason nobody was in our spot. They were pretty certain that there was no fish where we were, and that could have been partially because I was a young man with lots of questions and my grandfather was a patient old man with a lot of answers. This was our time for Q and A. I would ask about this tree or that and what kind of bug was that on the tree. What kind of fish were supposed to be in the water because we never saw them.

We would eat at about 11:30 everytime and those were the best sandwiches I've ever had. I don't know why they were so darn good, but I just loved em. We didn't fish in the afternoon. After lunch we would take a little walk around the lake and find this little waterfall and toss rocks into the water for about 20 or 30 minutes. Once again this was a time for Q and A. Different questions and different answers. I'm convinced to this day that I learned more up there than I ever did in a classroom.

By mid afternoon we were loaded up and headed back home. It was never dark by the the time we came back into the driveway. My grandmother would ask how we did, and the answer was always the same. "We got a couple bites, but no luck. Maybe next time will be our lucky day." I would hang out with my grandfather and we would clean up our gear and put things away. Dinner would come and then Mom and Dad would take me home.

My grandfather has been gone for 12 years now. Funny I can still remember his face like it was yesterday. I can still see him making his little gestures and most of all I can still see him with that fishing hat on showing me how to cast a line. That's a little piece of my past that will never go away. It's locked away in my memory as safely as my wedding day, the birth of my children and my graduation from boot camp. I miss that man, but on days like this I can put a smile on my face and remember those great days at the lake along with those egg and hotdog sandwiches.

Good times...............