It's a fine thing to go home and the find things that you loved about growing up just as you remember them. Maybe better
We went back to the town I grew up in for a week in August. My mom still lives there in the nearly 300-year-old house that we all grew up in. Spent time with mom, 5 siblings and a small but growing pack of nieces and nephews. Beach, ice cream, crab collecting and sand castles all day long, beers with brothers, sisters, in-laws late into the night. It was great.
"Most irish town in America"
And of course, the fish
My youngest brother, the only one of the three really interested in fishing, and I snuck out a couple mornings before the kids woke up to buzz out the estuary. It's where I caught my first striper, and then a whole bunch more through middle school, high school and when I could, through college and until I moved West.
Happy to report the same fish that used to chase the same bait under the same birds on the same beach are still there. Last 2 hours of dropping tide, like clockwork