Here’s to all the mothers who put up with sons and daughters who would rather hunt and fish than do household chores. My dear mother has been gone for a long time, but raising me must have been a super test of her patience.

A cartoon in the Morning Journal depicted a boy showing his mom some flat worms he found in the driveway. My mom found mine in my pockets. You see, when two guys were fishing and had just one worm can, it was normal to carry worms in a pocket. This was no problem unless you forgot to empty your pockets before throwing the jeans in with the dirty clothes.

As you older readers will remember we had wringer type washing machines in those days. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, my mother did not turn my pockets inside out until after a day’s collection of bait had passed through the wringer. She took it well, but probably contemplated passing me through the wringer.

Washday must have been an adventure for her. In addition to a pocke