I had a chance to fly in a plane (they called it an Otter). It was made in 1952. I was designated as the person next to the pilot (hense, co-pilot). There were 5 of us + the pilot. We flew 100 miles into a remote spot in Canada for some fishing. Get a load of the sign on the instrument panel in front of me...

This year we (eight of us) decided we would take our dad's fishing. We drove to Wintrop Harbor, IL. Camped for a week. Caught coho salmon every day we could get out. Here is a picture of some of us (dad's too) cooking some of the day's catch.

Fishing was slower than past years (all over). Can't explain it. No one seems to know why. Everywhere I fished this summer was VERY slow. Many times if ya got a bite, you were lucky.

The neighbors were celebrating just before Memorial Weekend. They went through 3 bottles of Henessey Cognac, in shots, by noon! My friends stuck to the beer (thank God).

One dude was soooo blasted that he fell backward of the table. So, in the groups infinite wisedom, they tied him to the table with a dog leash. He finally ended up taking a header into a tree stump smashing the F**k out of his face. After talking to "Ralph" for an hour he then passed out. Next day it looked like a bear attacked his head!

I'll be pretty much incommunicado for a while due to summer activities away for the Internet (and cell phones). Catch you when I can...