We Frocks lived on a beautiful property which because of a sequence of unfortunate events was sold out from under us one summer. It has become a sort of sacred memory place and we now call The Valley House. A sublime spot for summer play, trees to climb, fields to roam, a creek where we did the usual mud pie making, tadpole, salamander and frog catching and a pond that my dad used to skim the glop off of, (I have no idea why), and sometimes we would fish.

I remember one evening we kids were all out there fishing with Dad and I decided to try some fly fishing with a rod that was basically a stick with some fishing line. What happened was that the hook went flying through the air stuck right into my fathers arm. All the kid chatter stopped, total silence, time stood still, and I had a moment of utter terror, unable to begin to imagine what was going to happen next. Dad, in his typical fashion, simply pulled the hood from his bicep and says to me “That will be enough of that”.

My relief was immeasurable.

To this day I can’t go fishing without remembering that event.   Even if it’s just another fish story, sometime the simplest moments become epic in our minds.