In the 1970s, when the summers came, we fished. It was a short drive from Leaf Rapids to the Swanee River campground, where we parked the camper (or the tent trailer, in the early years) and set off in the canoe or the motorboat to cast our lines into the rivers or lakes.
Mom and Dad did most of the casting. I usually read a book, though from time to time they coaxed me into working with rod and reel. Out of all those summers (was it really only seven or eight of them before we came to Alberta?), I caught perhaps three fish, all of them jackfish, all thrown back into the water because they were too hard to clean. I never caught a pickerel or a perch, the tastiest fish, but luckily Mom and Dad made up the deficit.
We had at least one Pocket Fisherman, and I remember being fascinated by its design. To my surprise, you can still buy a Pocket Fisherman today. I find that comforting.