Gone Fishing

This blog is dedicated to my brother, Richard James Gronlund, who passed away last week in Calgary, at the age of 52.
My brother was born in Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminster, B.C., overlooking the Fraser River. The landscape along this mighty river, is, so I have been told, similar to the landscape along the Jordan River.
He was the only boy, sandwiched between 4 girls, and life with so many women was not easy! Picture a man about 6 feet tall, 200 pounds. He liked to wear either a black muscle shirt, or a black leather vest. His body was covered in scars from his rough and tumble days as a roofer. Most people would have taken him to be a biker, but his family and friends knew that under that gruff exterior was a heart of gold. It could very well have been his heart that gave out on him in the end.
At the age of 35, he turned his life around and went through AA - we were very, very proud of him. He did not have much of a formal education, but believed in self-education, and subscribed to a variety of magazines, including men's health and nutrition. He liked to cook, putter with cars, and put in a basement suite pretty much on his own.
He loved nature, and was a very good illustrator of animals and birds, perhaps in another lifetime he had been an artist.
He talked about working with street people when he retired, because he knew what it was to have an addiction.
Above everything else in this world, though, my brother loved to fish.
We love you, bro.

Shirley, Carolyn, Pat and Jill