A few years back, my uncle stood with my cousin and me on the banks of the Brokenstraw Creek that ran through Youngsville.  He advised us to fish for trout in the bend where it gets deep.  He had given us similar advice before, but what struck me was how he punctuated his advice.  "You boys oughta float some night crawlers where the riffles begin to even out."  Boys.  There I was a thirty-something man with three kids so appreciative to be called a boy.

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