It's a hot August day at The Cliffs Marina as I ease my fishing boat away from the courtesy docks and head into Neeley's slough. I am here to test my new downrigger system for striped bass and enjoy a day on the most breathtaking lake in Texas. I look around at the equipment and tackle I will employ to bring big stripers to the dinner table and cannot help but be transported in my mind to an August day in 1959 when I first laid eyes on Possum Kingdom Lake. I was eight years old and my dad had just taken a job running the municipal airport in Mineral Wells, Texas. We had moved there from Wink, Texas where water was scarce and lakes were rumors. Dad had rented a twelve-foot aluminum boat from Fisherman's Haven Marina in Neeley's slough and proudly mounted his 7.5 horse-power Wizard outboard motor to the transom. Zebco 202 reels and tempered steel fishing rods were the order of the day. I had never felt so adventuresome in my life! As we made our way toward an area known as "the stump patch", the water around our boat erupted with schools of white bass surfacing and gorging on threadfin shad. I owned one lure, an Abu Spinner, and I couldn't wait to get it into the water. I flung it with all my might and hit dad squarely between the shoulder blades. It took a little while to get the treble hook out of his flesh and after we did he suggested we employ a tactic known as "trolling". We let our lures drag behind the moving boat and waited for the strikes to come like lightning bolts up to our rods. Dad coached and reeled and laughed for the next two hours. I had never experienced anything like it in my short life but, needless to say, I was hooked. That afternoon we pitched pup tents on the bank beside the stump patch and I was given lessons on camping. I now realize that our camp site was where the Ranch's million dollar swimming hole is located. As I am remembering the sights and sounds of my childhood I am brought to reality by a twang and pop as my line is yanked free from the eight-pound downrigger weight twenty four feet below the surface. A large striper has struck the jig I am trolling and is headed for the dam. The rod is doubled over dramatically and the reel is screaming. I throw the throttle into neutral and grab my rod from the holder. From the back of my mind I hear my Dad's voice saying, "This is a big one, son. Take your time and just take what he gives you. Don't horse him and keep that rod tip up. Follow him around the boat and watch he doesn't get into the prop." I run four laps around the twenty-two foot boat before I finally get a good look at the magnificent trophy at the end of my line. "You're by yourself on this one, son." I hear my dad say. "Wear him down real good before you try to net him. You can do it, I know." After three attempts I finally get the fish in the net and deposit it on the deck of my boat. I finally start breathing somewhat normally but my knees are weak. I look around and don't see another boat on the lake. The fish weighs just under nine pounds and is a fine specimen. I pat her on the head and release her. I will catch white bass for dinner. It is such a joy to be able to escape to one of the most spectacular fisheries around and catch trophy fish but I am still doing it with the man who taught me how to appreciate what our earth has to offer. Take a kid fishing soon. You may have an impact that will last forever.