My grandparents lived on 160 acres of forest and had a little cabin in the woods in northern Ontario. They lived in a small place that had a post office, a church and a provincial park for camping and fishing. I loved going to their home - my best childhood memories are there.
My grandfather loved to fish in the lakes at the provincial park and one morning took me and Meredith with him. We were little, not sure what age, but young. When we got into the boat, we proceeded to tell our grandfather that we knew a secret to getting big fish, even a shark. He laughed and said “oh really”. We then started to yell at the top of our lungs: “here fishy, fishy, fishy”. If you don’t know the reference it’s from Sesame Street when Ernie and Bert went fishing. My grandfather tried to quiet us. Other people fishing start to paddle or motor away from us because of the noise. My grandfather didn’t catch a single fish that day, but I caught 4 or 5 (most were thrown back). He was in amazement. I remember he took a picture of me holding up the fish (with Meredith beside me) and shrugged at my mother and laughed.