The memories I have recorded here began to take shape on a blog that I started a few years ago. Like more than a few others of my vintage, I thought that writing a few memories down might be of some value to my offspring at some point down the road. At least, like those others, I thought so. Turns out that recalling them had more value to me than they will ever have to my kids and theirs.

I found that reliving my youth and some of my more recent days on the water gave me an appreciation for those that led me there. My dad, my mom, my uncle George – to all of you that led me to my love of fly fishing – I thank all of you. And as they peer down from Heaven and read all of this over my shoulder, I hope they are pleased.

The family members and friends that have shared a creek bank with me could never be thanked adequately. The muddy banks of Joe Creek, the flint stone gravel bars of Spavinaw Creek and the other streams that were my playgrounds are who I am.

I will forever be jealous of Norman McLean for penning the words, “I am haunted by waters.” For I am, and there are no other words that describe it so well.

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