I love my Mom.

Dale Langlois Uncategorized

This post is about my Mom. July 10th she will turn 81. She is a fisher. I got my fisherman genes from her.

Today we harvested enough fish for supper, no trophies for the wall. Mom didn’t care; she’s not that type of person. “Just enough for a taste.” She says.

Her and I reminisced about fishing trips we’ve been on and the fish we’ve kept and how we prepared them for consumption.

I used to catch brook trout, two at a time, sometimes four and sometimes one. I would clean them and freeze them in a milk carton or zip lock bag. In the winter months when I saw those milk cartons thawing in the sink, I knew we were having fish for supper: fish I supplied for the family!

Mom also canned red-finned mullet (tasted like tuna fish), helped clean and cook bullhead, fished salmon elbow to elbow in Polaski N.Y.

Tonight, while I wrote this, she was getting ready for bed and said, “I’m going to go to sleep so you can work.” She gets my writing is in fact work.

This year I want to teach her how to drive a boat. She can drive while I fish, right?