I’m a New Jersey girl. My sole experience with fish before I moved to Florida was ordering it Sunday morning at the local deli. But, when I moved to Miami and married an honest-to-Pete Floridian, I got a crash course in everything with gills.

Five years ago, we escaped to Jupiter. Two fugitives from congestion, urban sprawl, high crime rates. Moved into a townhouse on a lake, just across from where we were building our dream house.  We were home in Valencia at Abacoa.

Now, in those days, we still commuted daily to work down south. And they were long days we put in. So every night that first summer, when we got back home, we went out to the lake to unwind, kick back, fish for bass.

I learned to cast and I learned to jig. But most of all I learned to appreciate the consummate skill of my husband, the bass master. As this picture will attest, the lakes in Abacoa aren’t mere decoration.  They constitute an eco-system that makes fish stories like ours possible.

So how big was he? He was THAAAAAT big!