On Sunday mornings my brother, Paul, and I went to Sunday school and then to “morning services” to hear our father preach and in the evenings to Christian Endeavor and afterwards to “evening services” to hear our father preach again.
It is true that one day a week was given over wholly to religion. 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 fisherman. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.
“Altogether beautiful in the power of its feeling.… As beautiful as anything in Thoreau or Hemingway.”-Alfred Kazin
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