I'll start. My father, Orvil, used to take my brothers and I fishing, from the time we could hold a rod. He was always making us the priority. Most of the time his line was not in the water, because he was helping land one of our fish, or fixing a snarl, or teaching us something.
One overcast afternoon, we were drifting along the shore of Grassy Island, in the Detroit River, off LaSalle, in the Downriver area, south of Windsor. We were fishing with light line, and catching perch, and small pickerel (walleye). We were doing quite well, for about an hour, when, all of a sudden, somebody turned off the tap. It was like the fish just hightailed it, and we couldn't get so much as a nibble. My father told us to reel in our lines. I thought we were leaving, so I moved to the helm, but then I saw a look in my father's eye, one that I had never seen before. Steely-eyed, he cast his line out about 30' from the boat, and told me to get ready. His full attention was focused on where his line entered the water. He stood, motionless, knuckles white, as he held on to his rod and reel. All of a sudden his reel started screaming, as line was being ripped from it. He set the hook hard, and told me to get the boat moving. I started the motor, and turned the boat around, as quickly as I could, before he ran out of line. My brothers were sitting on the bottom of our open fishing boat, and we were bounding along, in the chop of the river, having left the shallow waters along the shore of the island. My dad was fighting the fish, until, at last, we caught up, and he could start reeling in some of his line. We chased that fish up and down the river for almost an hour, and I could see my dad, jaw clenched, determined not to lose this fish. We still hadn't seen it, but finally, it started to slow down. My dad hauled on the rod, reeling in the slack, as he lowered the rod tip, until he yelled, "Get the net!" When I saw the outline of fish, in the murky water, I thought we were gonna need a bigger net. He got the fish to the surface, and I got it into the net. My father beamed, as he lay his eyes on his trophy. It was a Muskie, 42 inches long, 41.5 pounds, and just barely shy of the line-class record. The reel was loaded with 8 lb test, and the hook was tied with 4-lb test line. I looked at my brothers, and we congratulated my father, on catching a magnificent fish. I used that old line, "You taught us everything we know, but clearly you did not teach us everything YOU know." That was the first time I saw my father cry, as he smiled, full of pride, and we cried with him, glad to have shared the experience.
That fish got mounted, and hung on his living room wall, till the end of his days.