my dad took me to a small pond on the outskirts of my small hometown for a short lesson with a storebought white popper and "cheap fly outfit" i must have been 7 or 8, the bluegill were willing and it has been downhill ever since. he took me many more times afterwards. we would supposedly take turns sculling the jon boat while the other fly fished but i can't ever seem to remember him taking a turn fishing. some wonderful memories of a great man