My grand father was a fisherman no, he was an angler. He often went fishing with friends, but sometimes he went fishing by himself. On the walls of his garage were all different types of fishing poles. He had about ten different poles but he only used two, his ace in the hole and the lady-killer. The floor was speckled with fish scales. His workbench was a mix of tools, butterscotch candy and beer cans.
             One evening my cousin and myself received a special gift from my grandfather, our first fishing pole. This fishing pole came out the package in three sections. It was made of bamboo and had a lacquer finish on it. The first words out of my mouth were, "Why are we getting those sticks to fish with?" My grandfather responded, "You have to learn to fish with a bamboo pole before you can get a rod and reel." His philosophy was you had to first feel the fish before you could catch it.
             When a six year old is told an old man's philosophy of fishing, it's a little like talking to a stone. All I could do was just stand there with a perplexed look on my face. The next day was to be our first fishing trip and I couldn't wait.
             On that following morning at 4:30 am my cousin and I were awakened out of a sound sleep. When we came downstairs my grandmother was cooking breakfast and packing our lunches. The aroma of sausage and pancakes filled the air. The expectation of our first trip was very exciting, yet I was fearful because I didn't know what to expect. We were really going fish!
             As we entered the car for our journey my cousin and I were filled with anticipation. We began speaking in a quiet chatter, but as we continued the journey our quiet chatter evolved into a loud irritating noise. My grandfather suddenly swerved around in his seat and hit us on the top of our heads with a flick of a finger. The trip to the fishing hole seemed to take hours. However, as I drive to the fishi
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