Anglers Journal - - MAIL -

My wife, Nancy, is an amaz­ing per­son, and I have her to thank for buy­ing me my first sub­scrip­tion to An­glers Jour­nal. I was hooked with the first is­sue.

I can­not come up with words to ap­pro­pri­ately con­vey the depth of my en­joy­ment of fishing, the chal­lenge of fishing and the op­por­tu­nity to ex­pe­ri­ence the won­der of na­ture that fishing pro­vides. Your mag­a­zine and the writ­ers who share their lives with us, the read­ers, speak to this and the shared ad­ven­ture we are on.

My son Michael wrote a pa­per while he was in fifth grade, re­flect­ing on his first canyon trip. Michael is now 26, and I still en­joy read­ing his take. Here’s part of his pa­per:

Then there was a shout from the tuna tower. “Blue mar­lin! Star­board side, com­ing up fast!” Sud­denly, one of the rods bent like a bow. Some­one yelled, “Fish on! Reel in the lines!” Be­fore I knew it, I was sit­ting in the fight­ing chair, and the rod was in my hands.

The mar­lin pulled like a truck. I pulled and cranked with all the strength I had. I was in my own world, just me and that fish. I must have fought the mar­lin for about 45 min­utes. I can still re­mem­ber see­ing it jump clear out of the wa­ter like a rocket. Finally, the bat­tle was over. I had done it; I had caught the mar­lin.

Barry Mas­sone Skill­man, New Jersey

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