I realize by the time you read this, Father’s Day will be past. However, this week I felt the Twins could easily play without my accurate or inaccurate observations.

Many columnists devote their column to Father’s Day and I thought why not do the same for the fathers out there, and since this is a sports column it is likely there are more fathers than mothers reading it.

I have throughly enjoyed being a father and a son and who knows, perhaps this column may someday find its way to a great grandchild who may relate to my time in the 20th Century.

My father grew up in Southeastern Minnesota on a small farm near Racine and as a little boy went fishing. I suppose for trout, but I imagine for anything he could catch. And perhaps his father did also.

In any case, fishing was important to my dad. I went fishing with him and mom when little before we moved to Ohio during WW II. I remember my father complaining that there were no decent lakes in Ohio. We moved back to Minnesota after the war and made up for the lack of fishing with a vengeance. Every summer, my dad would get a week’s vacation; we’d pack up, tune our ‘38 Chevy, take our dog Sandy, (no kennel for her), and head "Up North."

The first years were spent on Lake Koronis near Paynesville. For my father there was only one way to fish: trolling with a Prescott Spinner and minnow. It worked, we caught fish, a four-pound walleye for me one year. My dad never caught many fish; he was too busy running the motor, trolling, baiting our hooks and making sure my mother and I had a good time.

The next years were spent at Lake Ida near Alexandria where northerns were abundant and a little boy was really impressed when he caught a northern pike.

The fishing trips were the high point of the year for me and I think maybe for my dad. It began a tradition, for when we had twin sons I was bound and determined that we would go fishing. My Kay wasn’t so sure for we were a young family and didn’t have much money. But I was determined and every year I would save our small tax refund and with a little other money make our way "Up North" to Spooner, Wisconsin.

The first year our boys were young and hadn’t started school. We put on life jackets and went fishing. I remember those days with affection and in my mind’s eye see them as pleasant sunny days with no wind and my boys watching me skip stones on the lake. "Frow stones, Daddy, frow stones."

Each year I would buy the boys Zebco 202 reels. One year we bought very light bamboo fishing rods. Once a little bigger than normal bluegill snapped the fragile rod and we chased the rod and fish all over the lake with our boat until we caught it.

Occasionally there would be a county fair and we’d take the evening off and go to the fair. The rides were fun and thrilling enough that you didn’t go until you had given it a little bit of thought. We had a good time at Spooner each year for twelve years.

One of our sons has continued the fishing tradition and I’m sure he and his sons have built good memories. I know they have. I’ve seen the pictures. My hope is that we can all go fishing one more time. But if we don’t, my wife and I are satisfied and have wonderful memories.