There is a magical place in northern Wisconsin on the Brule River where I have spent summers with my family for over 50 years. It is known for its trout and the imposing list of individuals that have traveled to that river to fly fish its cold waters. Everyone in my family fly fishes but my father and brother have the gift, each cast floating through the air, softly dropping the fly in the right place at the right time. Then they slip their catch back into the icy, dark water for someone else or some other time. That is a true fisherman.

I dedicate Brule River to my father and brother.