Now I'll admit I'm a little squeamish when it comes to teeny-weeny wiggly little things that swim around in water. Come to think of it, I'm probably a bit squeamish when it comes to on-land wigglies too, particularly when it comes to a me-or-them scenario!

My grandmother used to pet wasps with her finger in the attic of her Pennsylvania home. I, too, am reluctant to cause the demise of any living thing. As the old saying goes, "If you can't create it, why should you kill it?"

Of course, I'll admit to being in the minority with this viewpoint. Plus, I guess I'm a bit hypocritical. In an ideal world, I'd be glad to be a Vegan, but the fact remains that meat and fish do remain on my diet, although in vastly lesser quantities than I used to eat. (Sorry, Chef Geoff!)

That brings me to my fish story.

My fisherman father was determined to instill in his pre-teen son the love of fishing. One day, we loaded the '61 Ford Falcoln wagon with poles, wicker baskets, and straw hats and took off for the bait shop.

"What are they bitin' on?" my dad inquired of the bait seller, with an accent reminiscent of Blackbeard the Pirate.

"Minnows!" replied the bait dude, who looked and sounded to me like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Well, we purchased twenty minnows, and off we went to Rocky River.

Now, "The Valley," as we call it around here, was a fabulous natural resource for us Lakewoodites even then, although the bike trail, and many other improvements, were to come later. Still, back then, and even now, fishing enthusiasts chuckle about their little secret . . . that Rocky River is probably one of the outstanding fishing rivers in the world.

Oh yeah, back to the riverbank. Dad had baited his line and cast it off, with a doomed squiggling minnow impaled on his hook. He asked me to do the same.

Well, wanting to be a "man" and all, I selected a minnow, and ran the hook through its soft little black and silver body. Blood and guts splattered everywhere, and I began to cry. And cry, and cry, and cry.

Did you ever look into a minnow's eyes? I mean REALLY look? Particularly one that you just murdered?

I cried and cried...asked God to forgive me, and begged that the rest of the minnows be allowed to live. Disgusted, Dad loaded up the Falcoln and off we drove, to a nearby pet shop. I'm sure Dad could ill-afford the 20-gallon fish tank, filter, gravel, pink rocks, and that little plastic bubbling castle in the middle of the tank along with a screen over the top to keep my precious minnows secure. But what price does a father put on love for his son?

Those 18 minnows outlasted President Kennedy's tenure, and nearly made it through Johnson's! They and their offspring became so tame that I could pet them all! They were joined by a great frog friend who loved to swim around and then crawl up on a rock to watch life go on at the Rices' house. Unfortunately, in the fall, he died; or so Dad thought--so he flushed Froggie down the toilet. The Science teacher at Dad's school had a good laugh at this, explaining that Froggy had only been hibernating. Alas, poor Froggie!

Well, my good friend Randall (Randy) Walthius may also have a great deal of respect for all things living, but he also appreciates the challenge of trying to catch a fighting gamefish! A Lakewood resident, retiree from BP, and father of three, Randy grabs his fishin' hat and heads for "The Valley" at every opportunity.

Like James and John, of Biblical fame, Randy is a fisherman...and while he has never tried to feed five thousand people on loaves and fishes, he would still be my bet for securing a good catch these days!

But catch is just about all he likes to do. To the relief of some of my more squeamish readers (and to my own delight), Randy is a catch-and-release kind of guy, at least for the most part. Randy has discovered that his satisfaction lies purely with a successful catch. Then he generally returns the fish back to the river.

Randy reports that there's quite a variety of fish to be had from the banks of Rocky River. Although as a fly fisherman, he likes to pull on those hip-length waders and saunter out into the river to find the action. Now fly fishermen (or fisherpeople, if you prefer) are the ones having the reel underneath their long rods. They whip these rods over and over, as the fly arches out towards the target area. Flycasting is quite an art, requiring dexterity and time to learn.

Also requiring learning are the myriad of rules and regulations regarding lake and river fishing in Ohio. Randy tells me that legally, Lake Erie ends and Rocky River begins at the Detroit Bridge. Different rules apply for different fish, as well as for lake and river fishing, so a thorough knowledge of all of this is essential for the sports enthusiast.

As to the best fishin' holes? Well, Randy is guarded about his own favorites of course, but he coyly suggests, as a clue, that a casual drive along the river will occasionaly reveal a group of cars where the fisherfolks are on a given day.

If you catch Randy around Lakewood, he will regale you with his many great Rocky River fish stories. He has caught good-sized salmon of the King, Coho, and Pink varieties. Randy says that the Pink ones are quite unusual in this area. Smallmouth, Largemouth, and Rock Bass are also abound in Rocky River, as are Bluegills and Steelheads. Even Northern Pikes are around.

Randy also reports that there are snapping turtles with garbage-lid sized shells and heads as big as your fist. Fortunately for Randy, he reports that they seem to swim away from his tender, rubber-clad toes! In addition to water-related wildlife, muskrats ply the riverbanks, along with 'possums, raccoons, rabbits, deer, and a host of other critters.

The great thing about Lakewood in this column is, of course, its proximity to this prehistoric, time-forgotten valley of wonder right next door, now hosting ball fields and trails for the benefit of all of us.

So, while you might not run into me down there, casting my own line in, I truly have a shake-my-head amazement at timeless fishing masters like Randy Walthius.

As a precautionary note, however, potential fisherfolks are reminded from time to time that there can be high levels of PCBs and mercury in some of the fish caught in Ohio. Be sure to get all available current information before heating up your frying pan.