Eventually, father time catches up with all of us. Once in awhile, I try to catch up with father time.

It took me over 40 years, but I can finally out fish my dad on occasion, although he’ll never admit it. He’ll blame it on my fancy new line or the way I operate my MinnKota bow mount to keep him away from the fish.

"Back in the old days, all I needed was a rowboat and a Lowrance green box," my dad would probably say. And he’s right.

I remember when an old tin boat powered by a small 18 hp Mercury Hurricane outboard that met all of our needs whether we were fishing for panfish or walleyes, hunting waterfowl and even waterskiing.

I remember how much I treasured my first fiberglass rod and my first Johnson spinning reel, not only because they were mine, but because they represented a certain independence and maturity.

I know now how far ahead of his time he was at walleye fishing and my first five-pound walleye that he helped me catch. It seemed a lot bigger. I remember him working all night long on third shift, then taking my brother and me duck hunting all day long. He would place me on a muskrat house with my own 20 gauge single shot and a coffee can of shells that we loaded the night before. He would take a nap in the boat to get ready for the next night of work. I would sit with our lab and shoot at the ducks and from time to time, I would get lucky and hit one giving the dog something to do. At the age of 12, I reloaded shells instead of playing video games and looked forward to it. I remember walking behind him on marsh skis that I still use today on my own. This is why I remember my first duck like it was yesterday. I remember my first deer - I took it with a bow. He was more excited than I was!

I remember how big everything seemed. The lakes, the waves, the marshes, the woods, the weather and even the fish and game were larger than they are today.