When my son was thirteen years old, I owned a small cabin...

When my son was thirteen years old, I owned a small cabin near the Gulf Coast of Texas, at the mouth of the Colorado River. Once I took him and his friend to the cabin for a weekend of fishing. On a dark, windy night we took our outboard motorboat to the mouth of the river and threw out the anchor onto the beach. With gasoline lanterns we left the boat to walk along the beach in shallow water.

After about an hour, we decided to return to the boat and go upriver. The boys proceeded on to the boat while I stopped on the beach to talk with a fisherman. I found him an interesting conversationalist and perhaps stayed too long. Although the boys had already put the anchor back into the boat, they climbed out and came to see what was detaining me.

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