The fish belt has a story. On a visit to see Sarah and Dan in upstate New York, we ventured one sunny afternoon to the village of Clayton where in and out of one charming shop after another we went. Bells on doors announced our comings and goings. Always inclined on such outings to purchase "something to remember the day by," I bought a teddy bear for granddaughter-soon-to-be-born. (Teddy has a story, too; but that's for another day.) Mike admired this fish belt.
Since our first family fishing trip to Lake Shawn in Ohio, fishing had become the subject of many good-natured jokes between father and son-in-law (particularly regarding the age of said father's rods and reels); and the fish belt got the party started. Lots of laughs and charming shops later, we all took a short rest on a shady porch where Sarah and Dan unexpectedly presented Mike with a brown paper bag. Inside: the fish belt! He loves it — and so do I for so many lovely, loving reasons.
He wears the fish belt often while camping. Here at Ohiopyle State Park, this shiny, embroidered fish caught my eye as he tended the campfire. I reminisced about that fun day in Clayton, feeling thankful for family and fond memories buckled up for safekeeping close to my heart.
