This is the time of year I send a Christmas gift to Howard and Janee, and he always sent something back. When he was diving a lot, he’d send me Florida Keys lobsters—such an incredible treat, and something I always looked forward to. I usually sent him salmon—fresh-frozen, home smoked, or home canned—because he loved it, and salmon was nearly impossible to find in the Keys.
I especially remember the Christmas during Covid. The travel industry had completely collapsed, and his business suffered tremendously. He went months—maybe even years—with barely any income. After he received my gift, he called to apologize that he couldn’t afford to send anything in return. It crushed me to hear the worry in his voice. I told him, as honestly as I could, that he never had to send me a thing. The gift was never the point.
This year, it is a strange feeling not to package something up to ship out to the Keys.
Howard is one of the last of my childhood mentors. One of the last threads connecting me to those early years. Not many left. Jerry Wang, Glenn Chen and my cousin Meng.
I shared a tribute to Howard on Dan Blanton’s board, but I want it here too (below). This blog feels more personal—more like a place to keep the memories and the people who helped shape my life.
Miss you, Howard.
Howard was my direct boss when I first started working at the Millpond. He was kind, generous, funny, and incredibly talented. He could cast a fly line as well as the greats, and his skill as a fly tyer and innovator was remarkable. Nearly fifty years ago, I took my first fly tying class from him. He was the kind of boss everyone hoped to have, patient, supportive, and inspiring.
When Len Bearden decided to manage the Millpond himself, Howard and Kay Mitsuyoshi moved on to start Fishabout Travel. On one of their early exploratory trips to Guatemala, many of us on the trip, including Atwin King, Bob Price, and myself, came down with severe dysentery. We were scheduled to fly out the next day, which seemed nearly impossible given our condition. Howard showed his true colors during that ordeal. He took care of everyone, and even on the flight home, he gave up his seat so I could lie down. That act of kindness is something I’ve never forgotten. Howard was a true friend.
He was one of my most significant mentors, along with Kay and Len. Howard never sought notoriety or fame. He stayed humble, always under the radar, yet he could fish, cast, and tie flies on par with the very best. Some of his tarpon fly innovations were truly extraordinary.
A few years ago, I visited him in the Keys, back when Janee was still alive. He was in good spirits, but I could tell that her illness was weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t in perfect health himself, and when I left, I told him I loved him. As I walked away, my heart sank. I had a feeling it might be the last time I’d see him. Sadly, I was right.
Over the next few years, we spoke about Janee’s passing, his work, and the future of Fishabout. Hearing the details of her death was heartbreaking. It was clear that losing her took the wind out of his sails, she was the love of his life. I’ll never forget what he once told me on a tarpon trip, back when I was still single:
“You’ll know when you’ve found the right person, because you’d stand in front of her and take a bullet to save her. I’d do that for Janee.”
Those words have stayed with me ever since. He also told me that marriage and kids would change me forever and that I wouldn’t be the same person, and I wouldn’t fish as much. I vehemently disagreed at the time, but as it turns out, he was 100% right. His advice was always spot-on.
Howard was a great man, humble, gifted, and deeply genuine. His influence on my life and on so many others will never fade.
We will all miss you, Howard.
Rest in peace.
