I was tired of hearing J.W. say he had never caught a fish. He was the first of many foster children who would see what the world had to offer through the eye’s of a fishing pole. One afternoon when J.W. returned home from terrorizing the Moscow school system, I had the ‘49 Willis loaded with all of the necessary fishing gear. I buckled J.W. in and we were off. Thirty minutes later we arrived at the shore line of one of Moscow's best kept secret ponds. We took our time unloading the gear. By supper time we our lines dragging slowly behind the boat. The peace and quiet was so overwhelming that you could not speak. It didn’t seem possible that we had the whole pond to ourselves. As the late day sun shined off the rods, you could see them bouncing from the action of the secret colored flash fish.