Hook a Hot Dog
The fish that ate our lunch.
My father was quite the fisherman. In the summer we’d see him packing his gear into the family rowboat early in the morning. He’d proceed to direct the boat out to a favored spot on Lake Willoughby. Sometimes he stay out all day “when they were biting.”
These were daily summertime expeditions, the lake was frozen in the winter. Although ice fishing was popular on…