A quaint old fishing town on the coast. Reminded us of back home. We treated ourselves to some fresh fish and smelled the familiar smells of an afternoon on the harbor – I missed home. It was nice to be in a place that still respected and showed appreciation for their community of fisherman. Back home fisherman are getting the shaft and no one seems to care. A job that used to be an honest day’s work but now can barely provide for a small family. Fishing is an art form and I have grown up watching the master – my Dad. Anyone who knows him knows he has more passion and love for what he does than any of the other guys out there. It takes endurance, intelligence and motivation to do what he does every day. He’s the last of a dying breed.
So I thought of him when I was in this town. It made me realize that I appreciate everything he does – even if the state isn’t interested – as long as the people care that appreciation is felt and creates such a strong energy within a community that when that energy reaches the individual anything is possible.