My friends forget I grew up in southern Minnesota. Really.
In the photo above my dad captures a 12-year-old me during an unseasonably warm day of ice fishing in 1977. I remember begging him to take me.
I've lived in Oregon now close to 20 years. There is still a boy in me who wants to go fishing. The older boy in me isn't there yet, preferring other outdoor pursuits.
But the bucket list is clear. I want to catch a salmon before my time is over.
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