Love of family and fly-fishing: twin tributaries flowed into your heart like a braided river. Paradoxically, a sociable man who preferred to be alone on some braided river, basking in the peace of the wilderness, hearing only birdsong and the gentle whirr of the fly line, its nylon whipping to where you hoped the fish would rise. Patience comes easily in peaceful surroundings, unlike waiting for the blessing of grandchildren. Eventually rewarded with five blessings. You always said what a lucky man you were. Iβm glad your luck held because you would weep to see your precious braided rivers drying up down here, ****** dry by the farmersβ greed for white gold and the threatened tarΔpunga (Black-billed gulls) getting their nests crushed by callous four-wheel drives. It would be enough to make your big, generous heart burst.