My son Michael hasn't yet caught a Bluefin Tuna this year like his big brother, Ryan, but this is still one fine Striped Bass that he landed on Mark Vona's boat.
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Nice fish, Mike!
I take my straw chappie of to the young buck who tangled with the great blue beast, and, having what some might call a spitual bondage with things of the wild, the birds of the skies and the fish o' the sea, i am moved to speak in praising words. Youse never fergets the first tuna youse wrassle with. A man just a boy til he gets that there tuna. So says the Injuns my pappy sold moonshine to. After they had a few, they was full of that sorta wisdom. And injuns are deeplike with the spirits.
So says the One with Lips like Tuna.
Gotta bolt, some enterprisin' sorts are sellin' gas for three bucks a gallon down at the Gas n' Sip. Fellers porking up theyse company Amex card and takin' cash. Look like meth heads. Sweet.
We never made it to Bar Harbor and Mt. Desert Island, Maine today.

I'm considering aborting the Annisquam trip because of the threat of afternoon thunderstorms.
Years ago, we got caught in a squall when we were returning from the Annisquam by circling around Cape Ann. Certainly one of the most terrifying times in my life as a never ending series of ten foot swells threatened to engulf our 21' Mako.
The storm came out of nowhere and immediately the sea changed. If I didn't see it then, I wouldn't believe it now. I never got a chance to put on a life preserver because I was afraid to take my hands off of the wheel even for a second, and nobody else on the boat dared move either.
It was a series of huge waves that the bow had to hit dead on to avoid being swamped. UP, UP, UP then DOWN!!! Over and over again. It felt like we were on the rollercoaster at Canobie Lake Park... but the stakes were much higher.
Joanne found out the next day that a Coast Guard Cutter who was watching our progress was taking odds on when we would capsize. Not "if" but "when".
Ever since then, I've approached the ocean with the respect and knowledge that it has the ability to change and overwhelm you almost instantaneously.
It was terrifying and I had to use all of my superior boatman skills to keep the bow heading into huge swells. Clearly a lesser man would have lost his vessel in this swirling maelstrom, but obviously I prevailed.
Last night after a pile of crawdad's and some luke-warm Piel's i painted a spatter job on my BVDs that rivals anything yer missus picks out at a yard sale in Wherever, NH. I hungs it outside the double wide and Effy Tradwell (whom I pleasured at last years Yankee Wife swap) commented that I have "the stylings of a new age Jackson Pollack." A man fer all the seasonings, TL is.