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Re:OR... 15 Years, 4 Months ago
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Don't take this personally, but Slo is right.
You don't know the era of the Jersey Boys (Hodad and Uncle Jack). Or that nutcase "Billy" and his bovine. Now those were days of insults (and hilarity). This place use to be "the place to be" and the bashes were quite something too - a riot at times. At some bashes, Slo would cook upwards of 20 tri-tips in his bung-hole barrel contraption.
Way back when, one could ask a serious question and get several expert answers. I learned quite a bit. And people would post detailed fishing reports. I wouldn't do that here these days, but that has more to do with lurkers than board members.
Alas, those were the days. It's the times...
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"Rivers course through my dreams, rivers cold and fast, rivers well-known and rivers nameless, rivers that seem like ribbons of blue water twisting through wide valleys, narrow rivers folded in layers of darkening shadow, rivers that have eroded down deep in a mountain's belly, sculpted the land, peeled back the planet's history exposing the texture of time itself."
— Harry Middleton (Rivers of Memory)
"Each night as I haul myself onto the back of county garbage truck no. 2, there is a familiar wind, some thread of moonglow or starlight, a splatter of dark rain on my skin, something that stirs my memory, and again, if even for a brief moment, I am on some mountain river, some stretch of bright water, full of possibilities, including the possibility of trout, perhaps one that, when hooked, will haul me in and out of time, in and out of life's mysterious and frightening, wondrous and incomprehensible continuum, even to the edges of the universe." -- Harry Middleton
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