In Our Family, There Was No Clear

In Our Family, There Was No Clear Line Between Religion And Fly Fishing. We Lived At The Junction Of Great Trout Rivers In Western Montana, And Our Father Was A Presbyterian Minister And A Fly Fisherman Who Tied His Own Flies And Taught Others. He Told Us About Christ's Disciples Being Fishermen, And We Were Left To Assume, As My Brother And I Did, That All First-class Fishermen On The Sea Of Galilee Were Fly Fishermen And That John, The Favorite, Was A Dry-fly Fisherman.

At The Time I Did Not Know That Stories Of Life Are Often More Like Rivers Than Books.

Help Is Giving Part Of Yourself To Somebody Who Comes To Accept It Willingly And Needs It Badly.

...life Every Now And Then Becomes Literature...as If Life Had Been Made And Not Happened.

A River, Though, Has So Many Things To Say That It Is Hard To Know What It Says To Each Of Us.