As Pamela mentioned earlier, and for those of you that don’t know me, I am Genevieve (Genna, Nenna, shortie, etc), one of Pete’s seven grandchildren, and Barbara and Pete’s unofficial fourth child.
When my mother, Patricia, was pregnant, she moved back in with her parents “temporarily” until she could get back on her feet and care for her and me on her own. Time passed, and she felt she was ready to move out. When she told this to her parents, they told her, “Ok, good luck. You know what is best for you…..but the baby stays.” Apparently they had gotten attached to the wild eyed, blonde haired terror they had let into their home.
I, apparently, was a lot like my grandfather, in that I would wonder off and go adventuring on my own. Instead of tying me up in the backyard, my family would attempt to lock me in my room, only to have find me wondering the streets of our mountain town. Pete used to tell me that it was my adventurous spirit that he loved most, and what made us most alike. My Grandmother told me once that he adored me so much (as selfish as that sounds), that he would follow me everywhere. Pamela was off at college, and had left her cat Natasha with us. I was obsessed with cats, and would chase “Tasha” everywhere she went. It must have been quite a sight, the cat, me, and my grandfather, all wandering around after one another. I would call out “Tata, Tata come here!” and my grandfather would always come, thinking I was calling him. So, eventually, it stuck, and from then on he was known as Tata.
I couldn’t have asked for better parents. She was always there to listen, my alarm clock in the morning making sure I went to school (and would often watch me walk there, to make sure I actually went), and my movie watching buddy. My Gran and I could talk about anything, and we often did. I will always be amazed at how she knew everything, sometimes seemingly before it happened! It was always a comfort that she was there, that I could talk to her at any hour (as she and I were both night owls), and that she and I shared so many interests. I have always liked the artist Rob Zombie, of White Zombie, a crazed rock and roll group, with very morbid undertones. One year, they were coming to town, but I couldn’t afford tickets. I told her about the concert, and she said, “Damn! I really want to go to that! What a great show!” My 5’2 ½” agoraphobic grandmother wanted to see Rob Zombie more than I did. I wish we could have gone together, that would have been the best concert EVER. She would often talk of saving up her money to buy a Harley, as some of her fondest memories were of when she and my grandfather were in Hell’s Angels (before they were the really scary Hells Angels). That memory always brings a smile to my face, my grandparents, hard core bikers in Hells Angels.
Pete, on the other hand, was my Father, my Grandfather, and my best friend. He took me fishing for the first time when I was three, the same age he was when his father took him fishing for the first time. From that moment on he and I were almost inseparable fishing buddies. If I couldn’t go on an adventure with him, he would come home and tell me every detail, and often would slip in “I wish you had been there.”
As I am sure you know, there are thousands of stories, thousands of memories, and all worth telling, but I will only share with you a sampling of Pete Parker.
Some of his major accomplishments, in fly fishing specifically, were his three World Records, working with the International Sportsmens Expositions for over 20 years as their Fly Tying Video Theater Director, and being an Alaskan Fishing Guide at the age of 72, at the Good News River Lodge.
Pete was awarded three World Records from the International Game Fish Association, and one Bronze Award. His first IGFA World Record was for a 13lb, 3oz Black Skipjack, caught on November 29, 1992, off the coast of Baja, Mexico.
Only a short year later, on November 28, 1993, Pete caught his second IGFA World Record, a 6lb, 3oz, Pacific Bonito, again in Baja, Mexico.
His final official IGFA World Record, and by far his favorite, was caught April 11, 1996. Pete was fortunate enough to go to one of the places he had dreamed of seeing as a kid, Midway Atoll. Pete was always fascinated with the Battle of Midway, and it was a real honor for him to finally see the sight of the epic battle. While there, he caught a 53lb, 8oz Giant Trevally. This is the record that would also earn him the Third Place for Best Fish of the Year award from IGFA. Of all the fish Pete had ever caught in over 70 years of fishing, this one remained one of his absolute favorites. Pete enjoyed Midway so much, he managed to take me with him a couple of years later, where I was able to catch my IGFA World Record. It used to be a item of contention…his was larger, but my record remained unbroken the longest.
Pete worked with I.S.E for over 20 years, and helped the program to grow from one small theater in an off corner, to one of the main attractions. He organized the “How To” area, letting the public get hands on help from the Pro’s. Pete also took the show from three venues, Portland, Denver, and San Mateo, up to five! Denver, San Mateo, Sacramento, Salt Lake City, and Phoenix. He also worked on some of the less attended shows, such as the infamous “King Dome,” where what people remember most was that the isles were so empty you could roll bowling balls down them, and how Pete got “accidently” drunk because of a switched cup, and could be heard laughing his big, wonderful laugh, throughout the Kingdom. That was one thing in particular that I loved about him, his laugh. No matter where I was, I could always find him by hearing his wonderful laugh.
At the age of 72, Pete fulfilled one of his lifelong dreams, and became an Alaskan Fishing Guide with the Good News River Lodge, Good News, Alaska. He tied flies, guided the rivers like a pro, and pulled some typical Pete shenanigans. He gained a new respect for all guides, and the hard work they do, and enjoyed himself immensely.
I was so incredibly lucky to be included on many adventures with him, traveling the world, and fishing with my best friend. Often he would scout out the places, Baja, Alaska, Midway, then he would find a way to bring me along on the next trip. I have seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, and been on some of the grandest adventures with and Icon, and for that I am truly grateful. As usual, he has gone off on what may be the grandest adventure first, but I think of it as him scouting the way, and that he and I will be reunited, and our adventures together will continue.
I am not as eloquent, or poetically gifted as my other cousins, but I did find a song that I want to share some of the lyrics from:
Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range,
A piggy bank
Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
Please, remember me
Fondly
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like 'We'll meet again'
And 'Fuck the man'
And 'Tell my mother not to worry'
Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if i make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of G-d and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissin on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the trapeze swingers
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