50 Nebraskaland • December 2021
people around. But when a total
stranger is doing so, and it seems like
you're the last two people on earth, the
awkwardness is amplifi ed.
"So what do we do now?" Don asked
me when I met him on the ice.
"I don't know about you," I said, "but
I'm gonna fi sh."
His entire demeanor immediately
softened. "Sounds good to me." After
watching him that afternoon, he
remains the only angler I have fi shed
alongside who never came close to
using a waxworm. Artifi cial bait was all
he needed.
By the time it was good shooting
light three hours later, it was like
photographing an old friend with his
latest catch, which were many.
A Couple of LiƩ le Ones
Regardless of the weather
conditions, I've never shied away from
taking my kids fi shing.
Sometimes slight modifi cations
must be made, including packing extra
clothes for when they step in a hole,
making sure there's enough food to
feed two starving tigers, and bringing
enough tip-ups to entertain them for
hours.
That afternoon, we had been granted
access to a pond with some really big
channel catfi sh, but I didn't know how
many trips we would be able to make
to this place. So we would need to stay
for a while. Our "fl ags," as my kids still
call them, were a necessity. While the
kids are skating, sliding, sledding or
even fi shing, they can watch the fl ags,
ready for the dead sprint when one
erupts.
On this day, we were catching little
bluegills — seemingly not much bigger
than the kids catching them — and
waiting for those fl ags to go up. And
while I remember the 4-pound-catfi sh
we brought in right before dark on one
of those fl ags, I can't help but think
how damn little my kids were back
then.
Last Ice
When a group of friends take the
same vacation, to the same place, year
after year, it's impossible not to get
these trips mixed up.
Yet the one pictured here I remember
distinctly. This was the last time
