I originally lumped this in with the previous post, as it seemed a fitting subject for how I truly got started fly fishing. But I think this subject deserves it's own was kind of getting lost before.

I owe somebody a large sum of gratitude, and here seems a reasonable place to put it.

Growing up I was lucky enough to be surrounded by genuinely kind elders. One person in particular, a long-time family friend, is responsible for fostering my interest in fly fishing and tying. Although it took about a decade to take hold in a major way, this man provided me with a lot. Himself an avid outdoosman (fly-fisher and bow-hunter), he knew of my interest of fishing Lake George and the surrounding area with my father, who would often brag to him about our weekend exploits. One day he simply left me stunned, with the gift of an essentially complete, self-contained, fly-tying kit consisting of one (old and clunky, but useful) vise, all the requisite tools, fur, feathers, hair, thread, chenille, name it, it would have taken hundreds of dollars to re-create what is in that box (which itself was a custom creation...a ~2'x2', sectioned wood panel carrying case). The materials and tools were old, warn, and a bit chewed, but the gift was priceless.

As if the kit weren't enough, he continued to enlighten me with literature (which I consistently forget to grab when I visit my parents) on all aspects of angling. Without me realizing it, he kicked off a passion in me that will (hopefully) continue with me throughout my life.

Although I have not seen him in a very long time, a chance to fish with him (health permitting) would be a true joy and honor, something I have never had the chance to do. Perhaps this season....

From the very bottom of my heart, I thank you Dick.


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