The Fish We Never Photographed
There are some memories that stay with us for a lifetime—not because we have beautiful photographs of them, but because they became part of who we are.
When I was a little girl, my Uncle Roy loved to fish. I remember him and my dad heading to the lake together many times, always hoping for a good day on the water.
One summer, Uncle Roy decided to take a boat full of girls fishing instead.
There were about five of us—my cousins, a couple of their friends, and me. I was the youngest.
I wish someone had taken a picture that day.
There isn't a single photograph, but somehow I can still see it so clearly.
None of us wanted to touch the worms.
None of us wanted to take the fish off the hook.
Poor Uncle Roy spent the entire day moving from one end of the boat to the other, baiting hooks, untangling fishing line, and removing fish while five squeamish little girls squealed and giggled. Looking back, I'm not sure how much fishing he actually got to do!
Then, when it was time to head home, we climbed into the boat...still sitting on the trailer...and rode all the way home.
Today we know that would never be considered safe, and I certainly wouldn't recommend it. But through the eyes of a little girl, it felt like the greatest adventure in the world.
There isn't a photograph of that day.
But I don't need one.
I can still remember the laughter, the excitement, and the feeling of spending a summer day with people I loved.
Years later, while our family was home in the United States on furlough, we were given the incredible gift of spending a summer at a lake house.
Before long, my sons—and eventually my grandsons—were learning to fish from the shoreline.
Sometimes they paddled out in a canoe, but most days they were perfectly happy standing on the bank with a fishing pole in hand, patiently waiting for the next bite.
Watching them brought back memories of those childhood days with my dad and Uncle Roy.
Fishing has a funny way of slowing life down.
The conversations seem a little longer.
The laughter comes a little easier.
And even when the fish aren't biting, somehow the day still feels like a success.
Summers at the Lake
Even before those lake house days, our family had another summer tradition.
Every year my mom's whole family packed the cars early in the morning and headed to the lake for the day.
My mom and aunts cooked over an open fire while my dad and uncles disappeared with their fishing poles.
Meanwhile, my cousins and I practically lived in the water.
Someone had found old ski belts, and we thought they were the greatest invention ever. We spent hours swimming, laughing, and making up games.
I'm sure we came out long enough to eat.
I'm sure we had to wait before getting back in the water.
But somehow, that's not what I remember.
What I remember is the feeling.
The sunshine.
The laughter.
The freedom of being a child on a warm summer day.
It's funny how memory works.
If you asked me today how many fish we caught...
I honestly couldn't tell you.
But I can tell you how it felt.
I remember laughter.
Adventure.
Family.
Summer sunshine.
Time spent together.
Those are the memories that stayed.
Do you have a memory that was never photographed?
Maybe it was a fishing trip.
A family picnic.
A camping weekend.
Or simply an ordinary afternoon that somehow stayed with you.
Take a few minutes this week to write that story down.
Because sometimes the memories without photographs become the ones our families treasure the most.
Reel Memories
When I created Reel Memories, I wasn't just thinking about fishing.
I was thinking about family traditions, quiet mornings by the lake, conversations between generations, and the moments that bring us together.
Whether your memories include casting a line, paddling a canoe, skipping rocks across the water, or simply enjoying a day outdoors, I hope this collection helps you preserve those stories.
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