When I first got back from Viet Nam, I worked for the Forest Service down in Oregon. Driving to the job site early one morning; as my crew reached the mouth of Dorena Reservoir, we were flagged down by an old guy. In his aluminum boat on the ramp, lay his friend of 60 years, who had died just as they were launching. He had survived his stroke just long enough to bid farewell.
That's when I started fishing, and I'm thankful to say I do have a few friends.