THANKFUL!

Len - Harry - Bayley and Charli!!!

(Owen and Wilder - TWO INCREDIBLE TIGHTLINE CATFISHERMEN)

Thankful for my faith, the steady heartbeat that tells me showing up beats being perfect every single day.

Thankful for the health that still lets me outrun a grandkid and Dazy to the boat dock and reel in a 10-pounder before breakfast.

Thankful for my parents who taught me how to how to love people, fry catfish, and how to tell a story so tall it needs its own zip code. Everything good I do is just them echoing through me.

Thankful for my incredible kids—who i love more than words and who somehow make me look like a parenting genius i definitely ain’t.
And thankful for my grandkids, who let KPa’s “world-record” catfish (yes, we named him Dug) get a little bigger every summer.

Thankful for my Leni, my bride, my co-captain. Thankful for quiet mornings, shared prayers, and the grace she gives when I accidentally turn all the whites blue in the washer… again.

Thankful for my friends, on the court, off the court, in the boat, at the fryer, wherever fellowship shows up, you make life taste better.

                                                      

Thankful for mornings like this—clear skies, calm water and this 3lb channel-cat beauty after a long debate with the GPS and a short prayer.

Thankful for TightLine, our volunteers who roll in early and stay late, and every single person who sits down to a plate of hot catfish and leaves knowing somebody’s glad they’re here.

Thankful for the little things done over and over… and for still remembering exactly where the best catfish hole is (even if we take the scenic route to get there).

Thankful for family, faith, and a fryer full of Mom’s secret catfish batter. Catfish, fellowship, and tall tales always taste better when we’re all together.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. Eat too much, hug too hard, and tell the people around your table you love ’em.

THE Mother of TIGHTLINE...

She’s the Reason We Serve Like We Do!

Mom (Nanny) and Charli

My mom is—and has always been—an encouraging presence in my life. She is not one for speeches, but her one-liners stick like my grandkids to their Halloween bags. Somewhere between a lost tennis match and a flying racquet, she said, “Let your last impression be your best one.” And like most of her wisdom, it landed quietly and stayed loud.

It’s not just for goodbyes. It’s for the handshake after a match, the last five minutes of a lesson, the final slide of a meeting—or when someone hollers, “Y’all got any more catfish and hushpuppies?” That’s Central Texas for “Thanks, y’all.”

Folks might forget your opening joke—or that foot fault you blamed on the wind—but they’ll remember how you wrapped it up. That handshake, that quiet thank-you, that extra hushpuppy you snuck onto their plate.

At our last TightLine cookout, while folks swapped stories and leftovers, Addie and Harper were quietly wiping down tables. No spotlight, no fuss—just steady hands and quiet care. That was their last impression. And it stuck.

So whether I’m stacking trays or signing off a committee call, I try to remember: the last impression’s the one that walks out the door.

                                               

Front Row Love 

That’s my mom and dad—still leading the way with steady hands and quiet joy. You can see it in her gentle hold of Maisie and his quiet pride. Their impression isn’t loud—it’s lived, daily, in the way our family carries faith, food, and fellowship forward.

Thanks, Mom! Your words still guide the way.