Like many of you, I apparently have an inherent bent to be hunter, gatherer, angler, critter cleaner, occasional cook. There is a photo somewhere, if I can find it, of a 4-year-old me, cleaning bullheads at Trigg’s Resort on East Okoboji Lake in Northwest Iowa. It’s after dark, there’s a fish-cleaning table with a light bulb overhead, I’m standing on an old fruit box, bareback, a horde of mosquitoes circling, and I’m oblivious to them, so intent am I on cleaning fish. Take a moment to Google—Bart Simpson, “Knife Goes In, Guts Come Out.” That’s me, way before Bart’s time.
In this regard, I will share something that only the tiniest group of people know. My nickname as a boy of 10 was Fish Guts.
I am at Boy Scout…
