What's in your Bucket?

 My grandson, Dennis (who caught a 14" bass  his first time out), likes to go fishing with grandpa.
The other day, on our way home, empty-handed, from (shark) fishing, I took him to the local seafood store to see all the varieties of fish in the case. I bought some red snapper for dinner. He asked for a piece, which he took home.  My daughter says he insisted on cooking it himself. When I asked him how he liked red snapper he said, "It was good; I like the skin!"

He is going to be a fine fisherman some day, especially as his attention span improves. My previous experience fishing with kids is that at age 7-8 they are good for 1/2 hour of casting and reeling, then become more keenly interested in throwing rocks in the water, scaring away any hookable fish that might have been lurking nearby.  It takes a lot of sitting and waiting quietly to become a real fisherman.


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On somewhat parallel thread, last Tuesday, I was sitting at my regular corner stool at Dunn-Gaherins -- my favorite local Irish pub -- when a party of folks came in. 4 young people and one older guy. From the conversation, I could tell that it was the old guy's birthday. I offered to move down a few seats so they could all sit together and talk, whereupon they bought me a beer. (Sometimes a good deed can be rewarded). The old guy sat next to me and told me that it was his birthday. "How old are you?" I asked.

"Eight-four," he said stirring his martini. (He had asked them serve it in a bourbon glass, because his hand shakes and he didn't want to spill any). "These are my grandchildren," he nodded to the young folks who were smiling and giving him their full attention.

This gave me a new item to add to my bucket list: "Celebrate 84th birthday at a bar with grandkids."

Update 3-25 One of my math wizard friends has reminded me that Lila will only be 18 when I am 84.  I may have to ammend the bucket age to 87.  Scary.