when we were kids in south Louisiana, our dad had a motor boat, and sometimes he'd take us out into the Gulf of Mexico to fish. We'd leave the house well before dawn with a cooler of drinks and luncheon meat sandwiches on white bread. By the time the red sun was peaking over the horizon, we'd be on the Intracoastal Canal, the motor humming, heading out for deeper waters. I don't know about recent years but back then, people sometimes tied their boats to oil rigs in the gulf to fish, and i read about why later on. The rigs, after being in place for a number of years, developed salt water ecosystems of their own that attracted the larger fish. Barnacles in their hard gleaming shells were latched onto the lower railings of the rig. Fish were leaping from the waves; there were sharks and stingrays and crabs and sometimes you'd see dolphins (the mammals). Each had their own body shapes and appendages, and thus different fascinating techniques for traveling through the water.

My memories are not all positive, though! Roped to the rig, the boat bounced up and down on choppy waters. I got terribly seasick - and sunburned. Most trips out, the boat broke down at least once, and we had difficulty interpreting what dad meant when he said, 'Hand me that thingamajig.'