Norman Maclean was born on this date, 1902 in Clarinda, Iowa. In 1909, he moved to Missoula Montana with his brother Paul. From a "River Runs Through It" "In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in eastern Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fishermen."
Good movie...GREAT book... a toast to Mr.Maclean is in order :thumb: Thanks for the reminder Steve Happy Holidays, LT
A few of my favorite Norman Maclean quotes: Something within fishermen tries to make fishing into a world perfect and apart - I don't know what it is or where, because sometimes it is in my arms and sometimes in my throat and sometimes nowhere in particular except somewhere deep. Many of us probably would be better fishermen if we did not spend so much time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect. I said, "I know he doesn't like to fish. He just likes to tell women he likes to fish. It does something for him and the women. And for the fish too," I added. "It makes them all feel better." A fisherman, though, takes a hangover as a matter of course - after a couple of hours of fishing, it goes away, all except the dehydration, but then he is standing all day in water. Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them. Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters. Happy Birthday Mr. Maclean.....
Well, it's probably a sad cliche, but after seeing "A River Runs Through It" I ran right out and bought a fly rod. I taught myself how to cast fishing for Blue gill, Crappie, and Large Mouth Bass in the CA delta. After I caught a few I pretty much gave up bait fishing and lure fishing all together. Ironically, I didn't catch a trout on my flyrod until I moved back to Washington State in 1995. Now I'm living in Japan and looking forward to fly fishing for some really big Sea Bass in the Spring and Summer. So I guess seeing "A River Runs Through It" ,and later reading the book, is one of the best things that ever happened to me.
