re: #91 Blind Frog Belly White

My folks didn’t fish. They didn’t have to. Bucky Hartzel, two doors down the street, LOVED fishing in the creek that ran through town. Didn’t like fish. Would come by with the afternoon’s catch and ask if Mom and Dad wanted them. They snatched them greedily, but gratefully, from him.

My grandfather was “that one guy” in their tiny little Midwest hometown. He knew where all the fishing spots were. Had all the stories. I wish I’d gotten a chance to know him.