Thanks, Dad!

My Dad grew up fishing with his Dad and when he had us girls, he took us fishing too. We loved it--getting to eat chips and drink pop, sitting in the rowboat on a quiet lake as the sun went down, driving home listening to the radio in the dark. When we did get a nibble on the line, or even catch something, the fish were usually bluegill. The others I remember were sunfish, croppie, perhaps even a catfish or a bass, but mostly they were bluegill.

There was no such thing as catch and release; if the fish were big enough they were to eat. Dad would clean and fillet them, and pack them in onion slices. We would eat them breaded and fried and they were delicious. (Not once did we think about pesticides draining into those Indiana farm ponds.)

Every once in a while I take my kids fishing, but it's never the serious matter it was with Dad. We don't prepare to be out for hours, stop for worms on the way, or rent a rowboat from a farmer. I just throw a miniture tackle box and a couple of toy sized rods in the trunk and we go over to the park to see if we can get a nibble on corn. Any fish we do manage to catch is tiny; the kids quickly admire it and I toss it back. But even here, it is still, invariably, a bluegill.

For this most recent shirt I had wonderful success with a blue crystal wash dye job--it looks just like sparkling water. Some sort of fish was a natural addition...and thinking about that most friendly and familiar fish, I decided to start with the shape of a bluegill. Bluegill spend the winter under the frozen surface of ponds, so I gave these some plaid flannel coats.

I'm so lucky Dad continued his hobby after he had us kids and was willing to include us. Thanks, Dad!