Teach a boy to fish... and he feeds his parents

Every summer my sister and I would go fishing with our Pepe. Up until my late teens, I can't remember a summer that I didn't go fishing while staying up at camp. Never did I imagine on those hot days, swatting bugs and hooking perch, that years later those would be some of my most precious memories with my sister and my grandfather.

Lately, Toby has become obsessed taken an interest in fishing. Considering we spend so much time at the lake, it only made sense to start him early. Last weekend Toby went fishing for the first "official" time with his Papa and Dada.

On his first haul he brought in 9 white perch. Not too bad, kid. He absolutely loved it and was so happy and proud of the fish he caught for supper.

At the end of the weekend, after returning to New Hampshire, we cooked up his fish and made a big deal out of eating them.

It was such a satisfying experience to watch the boat come back into the dock with my son grinning from ear to ear practically bursting to tell me what he caught. I remember that excitement. It's so odd to think that 20... even 30 years ago, that was me. At the same camp, in the same boat on the same lake. I had no clue that my life would lead me where is has and that my only son, my pride and joy, would have the same expression I probably wore when we pulled up to the shore so many years ago.

While this experience would have been even better if my Pepe had been in the boat with Papa and Dada, I know he would have been proud of his namesake.