I recently took my WW II Battle of the Bulge friend on a trip to Old River. We were joined by 2 other crippled up old farts and looked like escapees from the geriatric ward of a mental hospital. It was the first time in a while he was able to make a trip and he is only good for about 3 hours. We caught a few small bass and bream but no sac au lait. We laughed a lot and retold a bunch of old stories. At the landing I told him I wished we could have found a few. He said, "I would like to have a few but that's not why I came. I'm afraid this will be my last trip. I don't think I can climb in and out of the boat any more. I want you to know I thank God every day that I have friends who will put up with an old man and take me wherever I want to go whenever I can. Most people don't have that. I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

Best trip I ever had.