Jack of Harts

I grew up in the Boundary Waters between the United States and Canada west of the Great Lakes. There’s water everywhere up there, and I think I learned to swim before I could walk. My life revolved around water. Swimming. Fishing. Partying. I could walk out of my door, down the hill, and straight into the water. I knew the feel of minnows nibbling on my toes. I knew exactly how much tension to put on rod and reel, what the line could handle, and how long a fish could fight. I ice fished in winter, and yes, I made a fair bit of money showing my little part of paradise to all the city slickers who wanted to see it for a weekend or maybe a weeklong vacation. Yes, I was one of those guys who flirted with the pretty daughters of rich bankers and business owners while showing the family a romanticized version of my life. The most beautiful and safe parts of it. I loved that life. I never wanted it to end.