Last weekend those who celebrate Father’s Day spent Sunday with their dads or remembering their dad. Maybe even some variation of that but it’s the thought that counts.

My parents divorced when I was just short of 5-years-old and with that my dad was never really in the picture.

Unlike many divorced families my dad moved away within a year or two and my visits were limited to once a year and on rare occasion twice a year.

This column isn’t to complain about my dad, there’s no use in it. It was what it was but what I do want to do is talk about some of the men in my life who while not my father in a biological sense were without a doubt a father to me nonetheless.

The first I can remember is Earnie Hatfield. Earnie lived and worked in the Williamson, W.Va., area and took me under his wing. He made certain I got to go to ballgames, swimming, movies and much more.

When I moved to Russell I came in contact with several young men at the time but first and foremost was Bill Jim Ledford.

Bill Jim and his friend Jerry McKenzie made sure I was always at the forefront of everything.

I think they spent the better part of three years making sure I was always in the mix.

Probably my fondest memory comes from a trip they took me on down Rt. 2 outside Greenup on the Little Sandy River.

Actually, they pulled under a bridge and parked beside a creek, so we could camp for the night.

That was the very first time I had ever been around a campfire built from scratch. Now I don’t want to overplay it they smoked and had a nice Zippo lighter to fire it up.

However, it was such a great experience to be able to gather firewood, logs and I even add the wood to the fire when I was told. We kept that fire burning all night.

The next part of this big adventure was learning how to fish without a fishing pole. We had some 20lb fishing line and hooks. They showed me how to tie on the hook with a double knot, took a piece of wood for a float and my job really was to dig worms.

I found the mother load under a large rock. I lifted it up and there were at least 20 large night crawlers making their home there.

I grabbed an empty pork and beans can and after a little dirt loaded that can to the top.

There we were fishing line in hand and we hooked those worms right up and started throwing out lines out.

It wasn’t a matter of anything being a big deal but I do want to report that I caught the first fish. It wasn’t really much of a keeper, but it was the first.

We spent maybe four hours fishing and collected enough to have a wonderful fish dinner. That was an amazing opportunity for an 8-year-old. I learned a lot.

I might have even learned some language I didn’t know before and became quite adept as knowing when to use it in the right set of circumstances.

Thanks to those boys, may they rest in peace. It was an honor to spend some time on the creek bank with you.

And so, for another week, thanks and thirty.