This column was published Oct. 17, 1994--21
years ago. Bradley turned 27 on Oct. 31.
A couple of weeks ago, son Bradley and I
escaped from the routines of our so-called regular life—the daily hustle and
bustle—and went fishing. It was late afternoon, with only a stiff breeze out of
the west to disturb an otherwise mild and soothing setting.
The waters were an intermingle of blues and
browns, with the light from the low-lying sun reflecting brightly off the
surface. Autumn colors had already begun appearing in the nearby maples and the
underlying brush. As fortune would have it, we had this section of river pretty
much to ourselves.
