Woke up this morning and drove to the Region to help my grandparents pack all of their belongings they’ve accumulated in their 80 some years on this planet. In that many years, the things you think are treasures, someone else will think is junk. I found that out when I tried to get them to toss some shirts that had collars that haven’t been popular since Nixon was in office.
My grandfather caught that musky well over 30 years ago somewhere in Wisconsin. It’s hung on the wall in his workshop since then. As a kid, that thing was frightening as hell. It’s a lot smaller now, time has taken it’s toll. That gar was his attempt at taxidermy. Time is kind of a son of a bitch.