My grandfather had a collection of fishing lures in his basement. I remember the wall upon which he displayed it. I can see it in my mind as clearly as this computer monitor upon which I write. Shiny objects with big, nasty hooks, the lures seemed beautiful and barbaric all at the same time. I hated seeing fish with hooks sticking out of their gills. I hated even more the detachment that many fishermen had to the pain that the fish seemed to experience. "They're cold-blooded," a childhood friend once said. "They don't feel any pain." Delusional thinking.
