When I was a boy I thought my father was the greatest fly caster on earth, so I grew up dreaming of following in his way and not of becoming, as my mother wanted, an accountant.
Today, I am a man who often relives the important events in my life, but when I think back to the five state casting tournaments my father won, most of their images and sounds have melted and flowed into downstream memories, except for the images and sounds of one special tournament. Instead of fading over time, they ripened in my mind in more than just a visual way, and now they are almost as vivid as the moments of today. …
I enjoy reading short stories because they usually tell a great story, have a lesson involved and move on. This story is no exception. A boy idolizes his father and feels threatened when a better fly caster comes along. While he loves watching his father cast his rod, he doesn’t see the real value of the patience and practice until he meets another, more skilled caster than his dad. But instead of dethroning the father as a hero in his son`s eyes, the new fisherman gives the son a better perspective on why casting meant so much for his father. After practising, he honoured his father by breaking the record he was never able to.
My father was a fly-caster. While I was too young to appreciate or even remember his skills, I remember my father`s face when he would talk about fishing and pour over magazines to learn how to make his own flies. I enjoyed this story because it mentally put me in a place where I could appreciate my father`s love of his hobby and mourn the fact that he never went fishing again during the last 20 years of his life – it made me very sad for him.