About Me

Growing up, my father would always take me fishing in the woodlands of Pennsylvania with him. While he was busy catching trout, I would be scouring the creekside and digging my hands into the mud. Every little rock and pebble was fascinating to me: each one a treasure to be cherished. I would run up to him excitedly (scaring away all of the trout), and say, "Look! You won't believe what I found!" I would proudly hold up my muddy handful of little creek pebbles like it was a pile of diamonds. "No way! I can't believe you found these," he would proclaim. We would sort through my little pile of rocks and pick our favorites. Years later, after my father passed away, I found a small wooden box in his room. It was full of every special stone we collected from our fishing trips.