Well it’s a fait accompli with all the sides on the bottom of the page. A can’t go hungry in Lent Friday meal.
When I was barely knee-high to a grasshopper (meaning very young for those of you who are scratching your heads), my Dad often showed up at my elementary school. He wanted to go fishing, and wanted to take his fishing buddy along. Way back then, anywhere along the Sacramento Delta was good for fishing. All you needed to do was to find a wide spot in the road, pull over to park, then hike down the embankment to the wide, lazy river.
We’d stop in the little delta town of Freeport. Back then, there wasn’t much in town except a marina and the Freeport Bait and Tackle shop. Dad would get a tub of night crawlers and a few cold sodas. Then we would cross over the bridge that has spanned the river since 1929. The bridge hasn’t changed much, but the area and the fishing sure has. Now you…
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