My great adventure to Minnesota did not end with the humorous events regarding the wood stove in our cabin, or with an indoctrination to my first outhouse. There were more larger than life sights and memories yet to be experienced.

The fishing in Minnesota in those days was tremendous.

Each day our grandfathers set out for different parts of the lake to fish.

Sometimes they would slowly guide the boat across deep water in a troll for Muskie or Pike. They used large bright lures that ran deep behind the boat. Northern Pike is a wonderful fish to catch. It is a fearsome looking fish with angry teeth. It's one drawback is that it is not the best fish for eating.

Like here in Missouri, the Walleye was the catch everyone was seeking. Walleye filets pan fried by our grandmothers, was a delicacy as great as any ocean seafood.

Ron and I went on several fishing outings, but not all. We were young boys, and there were other pursuits that we had to complete. We had taken our ball gloves, so a regular part of each day was having a "catch."

We even made friends with the chipmunks. The shorelines of the lakes in Minnesota are littered with huge rocks left over from the last ice age. Chipmunks seemed to love this area. They are the most amazing animals to watch as they scamper and play hour after hour. They were not too afraid of us either. Often we took tidbits of food which the would eagerly snatch right out or our hands.

One day our grandparents took us on an expedition to the northern part of the state. Our first leg was to Lake Itasca State Park. In the interior of the park, the origin of the Mississippi River can be found.

Over a small spillway a tiny stream emptied water into a ditch that was so narrow that we could actually leap across it. It still amazes me to this day, that that was the start of the Mississippi.

After leaving the park, we drove on to the town of Bemidji, Minnesota. One of Minnesota's greatest tourist attractions was located in the center of town.

Two large statues of the mythical Paul Bunyan and his Ox (Blue) stood proudly. All of us had our pictures taken in front of these monoliths.

When we returned to our cabin that night, we had another great fish feed, followed by our usual card game. Our grandparents did not believe in regular cards, instead they taught us to play the game known as "Rook."

It has been almost 50 years since I played, but I do remember a little about the game. There was a card somewhat like a joker called the Rook. There were four colored suits with numbers from 1 to 14. Beyond that, I cannot remember much about the game itself.

Since there was no television or radio, we played a lot of this game, and also some dominoes and checkers.

Our grandparents never seemed to grow weary of playing with us. They actually seemed to revel in the times they spent with us.

Still, as young boys will be, we eventually did grow restless. We were not at all unhappy when the week at the cabin came to a close, and the return trip began.

One thing I remember about that trip home was the weather. It was in late June, and in Iowa this was a time for summer thunderstorms. It rained quite a bit.

Our stop in Storm Lake, Iowa, included one of the most impressive storms that I have ever seen.

Our motel was right across the street from the actual lake of that name. It was very hot and humid that afternoon, and we were all uncomfortable despite having every window open in the car.

Getting to sleep was not easy, as the rooms were just as stifling when we went to bed. Then in the middle of the night, I heard a thunder strike over the lake.

It sounded as if the motel was being shaken by an earthquake. The thunder continued to roll off into the distance, and the sound lasted for many seconds.

When I looked out the window, the lake had huge waves and whitecaps that reminded me of scenes I had seen on television of the ocean.

Time passes differently for a kid. Our week long trip to Minnesota seemed more like a month to me. The trip on the way up had also appeared to pass much quicker as well. On the return trip, despite the speed of the car, it felt as if we were crawling. Even today, when I travel, the trip home always tests my patience.

We finally arrived back in good old Nevada. It had changed while I was gone. It looked fresh and different. To be honest, it looked like the most wonderful place in the world.

Traveling with our grandparents to Minnesota was a trip that I would remember for all my life. What made it the best, was that those grandparents had taken us along. They have all been gone for many years now.

In the end, the adventure was fine, but the memory of them is permanent. That is how we humans receive our greatest legacies. Not in statues or memorials, but in the times and stories like the "Stove & The Outhouse."