Always in the last days of Summer, I seem to look back on the seasons past and cherish those memories.

It was raining here today and I was reminded of one of the fishing trips to Lake of the Woods, Ontario. This has been an ongoing experience for me that has truly spanned generations. For me it has become not so much the fishing...although it is the best I have ever seen, it is about the connections. They began with my dad over 50 years ago...and my dad's trips before me that go back almost 70 years...now the trips with Zach.

I have family pictures of this cabin taken years ago...some with my mom (now passed away) and dad (85 years old) standing on this front porch. Today when I go...I rent this same cabin. When I return, the memories flood my mind. The island is only about 2 acres in size with 5 cabins. We are boated out and dropped off for the duration...there is electricity and running water but that is about it. The heat provided by the wood burning stove has saturated the old logs with the smell of Hickory from decades of use during the late fall hunting seasons. Existence here is truly a fairytale of a life so unlike my daily treks in Evansville... a world away.

This particular day, rain had set in and we were waiting out the storm. Even a stormy day here is wonderful. Inside...no TV or radio noise...just the sound of raindrops on the old tar roof. A chance to talk with each other...spin tales of fish that got away and summers past on this island where generations of visitors now gone still make there presence known from old photographs of proud fishermen holding up their daily catch for the world to see.

I have stayed in 5 star hotels all across the United States, played golf at luxury resorts... but this meager cabin means more to me than any concierge service or king sized bed I have ever used.