Friday,15

Dads day thus far has been far better than yesterday. His doctors brought in a specialist with the pacemaker company. He is able to hook up a machine to dads pacemaker and print out a log of recent activity. With the data the doctors can get a better idea of what is going on with Utah's heart.
I just got back to the hospital but Joanna said Utah has been sitting up in bed most of the day telling stories.
Good times or bad, people always rely on what they do the best to see them through.

His calcium is still a little low but not as low as it was yesterday. Calcium deficiency is fairly easy to treat with the catheter, because the injection goes directly to the heart. The nurse will draw another blood test within the hour and continue to keep a close eye on him. The nursing load in this unit is unusually low, only two or three beds so all of the patients receive excellent care.

If you have a little time let me tell you about the first time my dad took me fishing.
I was real little maybe four or five years old. We lived on Wilson Ave. in Surgar House, the site of the old Utah state Prison were Joe Hill was murdered in Nov.1915. We loaded up the old Micro Bus slammed the door shut, said our goodbyes, dad coaxed the old VW to life grabbed a couple of gears and we off like a shot, maybe not a shot, it was more like slow rolling loaf of bread vibrating down the highway.
well we snaked our way up the Mirror Lake Highway that runs between Kamas Utah and Evanston Wyoming to what every little kid in Utah considered their fishing Mecca, Mirror Lake.

After a short hike down to the waters edge we took a quick inventory of our gear and realized that we had every thing we needed for an epic day of fishing, rods, hooks, line, a twelve pack of Old Milwaukee, now days I think it's called Kiddie Ridlin. Our bait consisted of some worms our roosters John Wayne and Dumb Kluk had dug up in the back yard and some old cheese that was a color of green I was not yet familiar with. We had everything that is except for sinkers, you know, lead shot.

Dad scratched his head for second or two then slowly reached in his pocket pulled his hand out and there in his hand was a red clowns nose some pocket lint a plastic cockroach he uses when he's on the road with no money and three or four of those shinning metal finger picks he used to use for pick'n the guitar. Deep in thought he reached over to the tackle box, pulled out a pair of pliers and started crimping the finger picks on the fishing line just above the hook. Now I didn't know nothin about fishin , but I remember sitting there watching those finger picks glistening off the water and shaking my head thinking this doesn't look like such a good idea.

To this day I don't remember how many fish we caught, hell it didn't matter it was my first fishing trip with my father. But I do remember that every time we reeled that old line in and cast it back out that as it sailed out over the water it played the Wabash Cannonball.