Fishing with my Father

When I was a boy, my father took me fishing on occasional summer days. We rarely went any further than the long breakwater rock paths, the breakwater that destroyed virtually all Redondo Beach surf.

We rarely caught anything at all, and one day I caught a fish that was probably 7 and 7/8 of an inch long. Just below the legal limit. My father didn't want me to be disappointed, and he proved that the fish really did meet the legal limit of eight inches.

I felt sorry for the fish, guilty, and I wouldn't kill it myself.

But it tasted good.