My Dad the Fisherman Essay -- Personal Narrative, essay about my family

My dad wont ride on the riverbank anymore. He wont tell any more fishermens tales. He wont cast his fly again and though his creel may be vacate my eyes are filled with tears. My dad was a quiet man. He liked the solitude of fishing. He liked to be one with nature. It wouldnt give-up the ghost to him that he was so popular, that he will be missed so much. Yet the very fact that so numerous mourn his transitory says much more about him, and his kindness, than mere words. My dad, you see, did his good deeds by stealth. He neer advertised the fact that he helped so many people in so many different ways. He never talked about his numerous acts of kindness. Yet I believe that almost everyone he knew has been at the receiving end of that kindness. He may have loaned a track record that was especially relevant ...