The Endangered Species Act was enacted in 1973, and while there is still substantial dispute over its purpose, efficacy and interpretation, there is now a substantial body of caselaw concerning it.
The NBA All-Star Game will be played this Sunday in Charlotte, and you can be sure that both the arena and the television audience will be full of people who never laced up basketball shoes past junior high school. Their ranks may be outnumbered by fans who’ve never dribbled anything other than a beverage.
My wife Hanna is my favorite traveling companion, not only because she generally goes places I want to go and brings a good attitude, but also because she has her act together. I never have to worry about her being late or forgetting the passports or passing gas on a crowded commuter plane (for the record: she farts rainbows).
Two years ago, when my wife Hanna was planning a trip for women to El Salto, I reached out to my friend Dan Brovarney to see if he knew any ladies who’d be interested. He suggested that I get in touch with Samantha Sukupcak, who “knows everybody.” I followed his advice, and while Samantha couldn’t join us in January of 2017, she identified two other friends who ended up making the trip.
I bought my first Megabass Vision 110 when they started to make a name for themselves at Table Rock and Beaver Lake, but were not yet known in many other places in the US. They certainly weren't available in tackle stores from coast to coast, and ardent acquirers were paying up to a hundred clams to get one in one of the "right" colors.
In November of 1997, I was a third-year associate at a law firm, spending ridiculous hours working on a financially substantial ratemaking matter before the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. The case was reaching a boiling point that fall, which was not a problem for my ledger of billable hours, but nevertheless caused me great angst because I had qualified to fish as a co-angler at the FLW Championship (before its name had been changed to the Forrest Wood Cup) on Lake Ferguson in Greenville, Mississippi.
My friend Tej was trained in at the National Institute of Fashion Technology in India in the art of jewelry design, and that continues to be his bread and butter. Fortunately for those of us who don’t care about baubles and wearable bling, he has turned his time-off attention to a far more noble (albeit likely less lucrative) pursuit: Airbrushing crankbaits.
When I leave my house to head out to fish the Potomac River, I make a right turn out of the driveway, a left turn at the first intersection, and about a quarter mile down the road there is a flagpole with a massive American flag. That’s my first sign of how the day will go. If it’s standing perpendicular to the pole, straightened by a brisk wind, I know that I am about to get my 48-year-old back pounded into submission.
I met Jeff Teague at my first bass club meeting in early September of 1995, on the night that Cal Ripken passed Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive Major League games played. I was 25 and he was somewhere in his mid-30s and he knew far more about fishing than I did. It doesn’t seem all that long ago, but we’ve run a lot of water through the livewells since then. Ripken has been retired for 17 years. We’re still fishing.