I caught this fish in the eighties, on a lake up in the woods in Canada. My family has gone there every year of my life. We are not going this year. The chain smoking, bigoted leftover of the fifties who used to rent the cottage to us passed away this year. I will miss the mystery meat she used to serve at happy hour while she drank her scotch and milk. I will miss playing poker with my family late into the night. I will miss watching the sun set over the lake while eating corn on the cob. I will miss swimming and volleyball and hammocks and sailing and spending all day barefoot. I’ll miss having dirty paws. This was my summer camp. My one constant thing and I hate that it’s gone. Thanks for listening.