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Authors

Abstract

My earliest memory of fishing is watching a bobber in the water. It's red and white, resting on the surface of the shimmering lake - and I'm watching it intently. I'm staring at the bobber because my father has told me that the bobber will let me know when a fish bites my worm. My father has impaled a ruddy brown night crawler on my fishhook - a gross but compelling piece of surgery to a five-year old. He then threw the hook, line, and sinker - plus bobber and worm - into the lake fifteen feet from the shore. I know - because my father has told me so - that if the bobber sinks under the surface of the water, a fish has bitten my worm (and hook) and I should yank my pole, hard but not too hard. Although I watch my bobber as hard as I can, praying for it to bob, I also secretly watch my twin brother Gary and my father, wondering whose bobber will bob first. Suddenly, in a moment intensified by expectation, mystery, and memory, my bobber disappears...

Publication Title

Clinical Law Review

Volume

6

Issue

1

First Page

1

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