To the Stehekin friends of my Dad,

Quite a task for a son to try to share or capture the essence of his Dad and ultimately share them with the community he loved so much. As many of you have heard or know by now my Dad, "Bob" Lehman died this month due to his battle with metastatic melanoma cancer. What you may not know is what a great Dad and Grandpa he was and how much he loved to be a part of all the great things Stehekin has to offer.

My Dad dedicated his life to kids. He was a Superintendent of Schools, coach of numerous Little League teams, and loved every last moment being around his grandkids. As a Dad I found his love to be unconditional. He celebrated in my wins and didn't judge me in my losses. He listened and offered advice if I asked. My Dad was involved. He rarely said no when it had to do with playing catch or as I got older going back out to the river to fish for a third time during the day. He was not the kind of Dad that ever forced me to do things. He allowed me to figure things out and as a result I came to him when I needed his support. Most of all my Dad was fun. He was fun to be around. Whether it was watching the Mariner's blow a big lead or stopping at the bakery to get vegetarian pizza. My Dad coached to have a positive attitude and as much as he practiced it he got pretty good at it. I thought he was funny. My Mom might argue that, but he made me laugh. Especially, when it came to his descriptions of the size of fish he caught. Or the number of fish for that matter. Besides my brother I have never met someone who took in as much joy catching the same size fish over and over and over in the upper Stehekin.

Over the years my Dad got to know many of you. But his most intimate relationship was most likely forged through hours of fishing, often by himself on the river. Whenever he would pick me up in the summer for my week visit we would stop by the bakery for veggie pizza before heading up the road. Invariably, he would start in on all the places he caught a fish and where he thought there might be a good hole as the truck ventured towards the cabin. It was amazing how many "really nice" fish he claimed to have caught. Many of you may not know that he has a name for almost every hole on the river. Some are named after you, others based on the river formations, and maybe even some from a guest or two who caught a fish in a particular area. Dad loved the river. His favorite view was looking back at MacGregor on a warm summer day with the breeze whistling down the valley. I asked him if he enjoyed fishing as much by himself and he said something to the effect that it always was a little more fun to share a catch with someone else, but it was still fun. It was my way of trying to have him make me feel better about ultimately knowing I would soon be alone on the river. I'm sure many of you have seen his truck pulled over at the side of the road on an occasion or two or three in pursuit of a big rainbow. I could only hope that you name a fishing hole or a part of the river after my Dad. If he knew that "Bob's Hole" lived in the life of a grandchild I believe nothing could make him happier.

Thanks for allowing me to honor my incredible Dad.

Trevor Lehman