As time passes, you're scouting the same spot, even sharing tricks of the fishin' trade. "You grew up in THAT small town?" he asks, showing you a new way to bait hooks.
"The last name's Stilson," you reply, "like that character in ENDER'S GAME."
"I knew a Clan Stilson...," he says.
You get chills 'cause that's your grandpa. He starts telling you all these wonderful stories of a man you once knew.
"That was my grandpa," you finally say. "He made everyone feel like his favorite." And then you start thinking how much you miss him because you loved him--and he meant something to everyone, even fishermen on the opposite side of the state.
Then he starts telling you how he was there the day your grandpa fell from a roof. You get teary-eyed, because he's nearly shaking remembering the details, how he couldn't stop time, how he lived next door...how your grandpa died. Then he switches gears, tells you you're kind like your grandfather, but spunky like your grandma. You bust with laughter 'cause it's about the nicest thing you've ever flippin' heard. He says goodbye and tears fill your eyes again, even if you are covered in mud and worms guts line your fingernails--that's just part of the jig.
After a while you're left alone by the motionless water. No fish on your line, with it's newly baited hook. But you don't care what size of trout you catch, the age of the hook you're using, or even if you wasted your money on garlic powerbait. You made another memory and that's what God made fishin' for anyhow.
