There are two ways to look at a fishing tale. First, you will bring home the beginnings of a meal fit for a king. Second, you will create memories that will last a lifetime.

My tale began when I was six years old. I remember everyone telling their own fishing tales, especially my Grandma and Grandpa Kaufman along with my Uncle Conrad, better known as Uncle Connie. Their tales were the ones my dreams were made of, good times with people I love. Before I could qualify to go spring ice fishing with them I had to pass two tests. They were simple really; I had to be able to tie on my own hook as well as bait that hook. At the age of six I had them both conquered and was ready to go have some of the fun I had been hearing so much about.

That first day we got up at 5:00 am, had breakfast and were on our way to the bait sop by 6:30. The sun was on the rise and so were our hopes of a big catch. We had our bait, wax worms and a dozen small minnows, and our  yearly licenses in hand. The man at the bait shop had been kind enough to let us know of the latest hot spots on the nearby lake. It wasn't long before we had dropped our plain hooks on drop lines into the holes we had drilled and chiseled by hand. It was the beginning of my own fishing tales.

The older I got, the more I learned. At the age of ten I was able to help with the decision of where we would fish. That meant a lot to me. They trusted my fishing abilities and they trusted my judgment. At age twelve I was able to help cook our catch when we got home. On one such occasion my Uncle Connie turned to me and said, "I'm not going to take you fishing anymore. You embarrassed me today. You out-fished me in front of my parents and friends." I can still remember everyone laughing that I had out-fished such an experienced fisherman. It seemed funny at the time, but I wasn't laughing anymore.

I thought my uncle was quite serious. All through dinner and the evening, he never let on that anything was any different than he had stated. My fishing tales were flashing before my eyes. What had I done? How would I make things right? The end of the evening was drawing near. My grandma, grandpa and uncle were getting ready to head to their homes. They were almost to the door when my uncle yelled to me, "Same time tomorrow Luey!" It made me feel like a king! The fish dinners were always great; the fishing memories were even better. Happy fishing!

By LuAnn Hatten