Despite my reputation in some quarters as a curmudgeon, I really like giving gifts. Not a sweater or a gift card or some crap like that, but something that I expect to be meaningful to the recipient. I’m sure there have been a few misses along the way, but on the whole I think that Hanna and I do a pretty good job.

A little over a decade ago, Hanna and I were driving to her cousin’s wedding just outside of Bar Harbour, Maine when we saw a big striped bass and a tarpon staring at us from the side of a barn. We pulled over to a small crafts and souvenir shop to investigate and fell in love with the big colorful metal striper. We were still more or less newlyweds, still more or less trying to get our financial footing in the world, and the high three-figure price scared the hell out of us, so we left without buying it.

In the early, debilitating stages of what is now a persisting pattern of Giant Trevally obsession, I searched for everything I could about this crazy species that I’ve still yet to chase. While this COVID-19 crap has shut down my exotic travel for the time being, it has cemented my decision that I will go someplace like the Seychelles, the Maldives or the Andamans to tangle with one or more of these brutes.

For years my wife Hanna and I have had a Pop-R mailbox. Actually, we had the first one for so long that it wore out and we had to replace it. I suppose if we lived in a more upscale neighborhood we’d have one replicating a Lobina Lures Rico instead, but this was the best option available.

Because of my dad’s job, most of my childhood summers were spent in the back seat of a sedan driving someplace across America. I’m not sure I appreciated spending so much time with my family and seeing our great country much at the time.