Grandad's Fly Rod

Some of my best memories as a child growing up, were times I spent with my grandad Buckman. The one I called "dad". My love for the sport of fishing, I owe to him. Every time he would have a break in his workday on the farm, he would haul me off to the river or a neighbors farm to go fishing.
If you are familiar with fishing tackle, you know that a fly rod is primarily used to fish with artificail flies and lures. Grandad's only tackle was a fly rod. And he used it for everything but artificail flies. His favorite was live bait of some form or another. Using the fly rod in this way was a little unorthodox. Especailly for river fishing where we were after catfish and carp. But this worked for him and was how he wanted to fish.
Of all the years I've been a fisherman, I've yet to encounter someone using a fly rod in the manner that my grandad used his. He was a unique individual, and I guess that is what this post is about. Not his fly rod. He was a free spirit and never a follower. He cut his own path thru life as he saw fit.
He had a dairy. It required that he get up early every morning. When I stayed there during the summer, Sam and I would get up early with grandad to do the milking chores. One morning I woke up and went downstairs and was waiting my turn to get in the bathroom. Out pops grandad in his birthday suite. It startled me, for it was just another side of that free spirit I had never seen. I guess I had invisioned grandad sleeping in long johns or something like that.
I gained more than a love of fishing from him. He showed me that we all have choices in life, and that we should follow 'our' heart and not someone else's heart or wishes or lifestyle. X.