But, it wasn't until much later that I learned to appreciate my father.

I remember loving to go to the river as a child. We would play and swim at a place called Lincoln 's Landing. My dad was my hero. He could swim, paddle a boat, fish, run the motor, etc. He knew where all the logs were and how to dodge them. I loved going fishing with him.

Then came my teenage years.

When I was a teenager, I would go with Daddy but I would always end up kind of regretting it. He would get mad at me because I got my line caught in a tree limb or my lure hooked on a log or didn't paddle the right way or fast enough, etc. Plus, being a teenager, I hated to get up early in the morning. So, in my late teens, I just stopped going. Cold turkey. Yeah, I suppose it was the rebellion thing.

And I didn't go with him again until I got into my late 30s and early 40s.

By that time, I had grown up. I realized that my father's fishing trips, when I was younger, were his way to escape the pressures of a dirty and depressing factory job and to bond with his only son. I couldn't see that then. Nor could I see the beauty of God's creations they way that he saw them. He loved the river, the trees, the birds, the water, everything.

It wasn't until I had 'grown up' that I learned to appreciate the things Daddy was trying, in his own special way, to share with me. With age comes wisdom, maturity and a natural 'settling down.' Both Daddy and I began to share more. I began to look at him differently. Here was this big bear of a man, quiet in nature, explaining how he enjoyed watching the birds in the trees or the lazy current of the river. I loved to watch his excitement when he got a fish on the line. I do not "roll my eyes" when he talks of his youth and his exploits on the river. How he marvels at the ever-changing river...much like life. Twists and turns, changing but never stopping

We have a good time now, when we can get out and go fishing. I love my Daddy...now more than ever.