As I was thinking back over all the fishing I've done this year and some of the conversations I've had with people at the lakes and streams, one conversation really stuck out in my mind.

I was fishing in a lake at a local state park. There is a fairly steep hill leading up to the lake. I had been fishing for about an hour and there was a man sitting by the lake. He looked to be in his mid 60's. He had a fishing rod with him and a tackle box but in the hour I had been working the bank looking for bluegill, I didn't see him make a single cast, he was just sitting there looking over the water.

I worked my way toward him and when I got closer, I noticed he didn't look real good. I sat down and started talking with him. He seemed like a nice guy and I asked if he was OK. He said yes, why. Well, mister, you look kind of pale and I thought I'd ask. NO, this isn't going to be a ghost story.

The man looked at me and smiled and thanked me for asking. He had a heart attack earlier that week. He snuk out of the house to go fishing. He said his wife was worried about him and had called his cell phone several times while there and he kept telling her he was OK.

I asked him why he walked up that hill to this lake so soon after being so sick. He said he had been fishing that lake for over 30 years and while he was in the hospital, he realized it was his favorite place on Earth. He figured he could die looking at the ceiling of a hospital, or he could die doing the one thing he loved to do most of all. We talked for another 15 minutes or so and I went on along the shore line catching bluegill. Every time I caught one, the man congratulated me. He said he was having more fun watching me work those bluegill with my fly rod and popper than he would if he was fishing himself.

I offered to let him catch a few with it but he declined saying he'd rather watch an "expert" work over those bluegill. I told him I wasn't an expert. He said anyone who can cast one of those things and catch as many fish as I was must be an expert. I reassured him of his error in judgment, we both laughed.

A little while later, he got up and started heading back to his car. I had caught enough fish that night and walked back down the hill with him. I didn't want him going down there alone. We got to the cars, he put his stuff in the trunk of his car, I put my stuff away, we chatted for a couple minutes about what a pretty evening it was and went to our cars to head home. He rolled down his window and thanked me. For what I asked.

He said for saving his life. I asked what he meant. It seems he had gone to the lake that night prepared to die. Watching me catch a bunch of bluegill made him realize his life wasn't over. I asked if it was ok to pray for him and he said yes.

I never saw him at that lake again and wonder if he died or if we just never crossed paths.

Anyway, that was without a doubt the best conversation I had with anyone fishing this year (or any year that I can remember).

Jeff