I prefer to concentrate on the rewards of being Dad. Years ago, when my older daughter was 7, we used to throw our fishing poles into my old blue plymouth stationwagon, and drive over to some ponds about a mile from our home. We fixed our poles with worms about 3 feet past our red and white bobbers and threw them out onto the lake surface. We intently watched the bobbers on the quiet lake. The wait for bluegills to hit in Midsummer was usually about 30 seconds, tops, before our bobbers started bouncing around. I found that it was more fun to just help Alyssa catch fish. I can remember her pulling in the fish, swinging it up on to shore, then holding it up for me to photograph. What has remained in my mind is her standing there proud as can be, in her little gator shirt with the lavendar collar, fishing pole in one hand, string with bluegill on it in the other hand, and ear to ear grin,

For young kids, catching fish is serious fun. Every summer I now take my younger daughter Amy to some lakes where we catch good-sized trout, some up to 15 or 16 inches.

I hardly ever catch fish, even with a double rod stamp, because the pole with the bite on it is always Amy's. When Amy hooks a large trout I coach her to take her time, hold the rod tip high, let the trout pull against the rod, don't reel when it pulls real hard. Once, when she was six, she told me her arms were getting tired as she pulled in a large trout. I expect that a pound trout being pulled in by a six year old must feel about the size of a whale.

I get down on the water's edge and net Amy's trout after she works it close enough. Then Amy carries the fish around in the net, with the same grin I used to see on Alyssa at that age, and the same proud look. When she catches a rainbow we hold the fish in the sun and examine the beautiful colors on its side. I tell Amy how much I love eating the trout she catches for me, that I am going to barbecue it on the grill that same weekend.

Last summer Amy's mom went with us fishing. She had not gone in years. Her and I used to enjoy fishing when it was just us two, when we buddied around before having kids. That was 20 years ago. It is hard to imagine us going fishing without kids now. But we did - every weekend one fall on the Grand Mesa. At times she would hike with me down to the Gunnison Gorge to do some real fishing. I believe I adored her. I would carry all the supplies, and the fish, then put my hand on the small of her back and give her a little push as we hiked uphill on the way home, to make the hike a little easier for her.

Amy and Jan and I were at our spot last summer about an hour, when Amy of course caught the first trout, a large brown. Then Amy's pole got another hard hit. This one knocked the pole down and gave us all an adrenaline rush as we scrambled to get there in time. I told Amy to let her Mom bring in the fish, since Jan hasnt caught one, and Amy and I go fishing all the time. Amy reluctantly agreed (after I had to hold her to give her Mom time to get to the pole first).

Janet picked up the pole and worked the fish in. This time Amy netted it for her. It was just slightly smaller than Amy's brown, both almost 15 inches. Janet stood there and held her fish up in the net as I took her picture. There it is again, that same little-girl grin, proud as can be, but on a 40 year old woman. In that smile is much of what I love about my wife, and much of the reason I married her. I certainly was blessed to have had such a family.