Its fishers of men when you can’t loiter on the fishing opener, and you might use Mom as bait (OK, we wouldn’t do that, creepier than a bad catfish)

Go fish, and go Mom, wherever they are found (mostly local for this reference, but then there is the Iberian Peninsula):
— OK, the fishing opener has come and gone, and fishers could not go up the currently-closed dike road to the islands of the St. Croix River, and in the other direction could not linger in the parking lot of the bait-laden and fishing-license-selling Holiday store, because it had a No Loitering sign, (like the no parking for less than ice cream at Dairy Queen across the intersection). So, what’s a wayward fisher person to do? Maybe the impetus is that after hours, you know, even if you have to go back to the park hangers-on, they might be fishers of men, and the authorities have frowned on that kind of thing for ALMOST 2,000 years, (or maybe more). Except when sending all such people across Lake St. Croix, back to Minnesota and over to Loring Park.
— What’s Mothers Day for? Taking her out not to a fancy restaurant, but to what is essentially the genealogy shop. Two such area moms who didn’t know each other until the recent holiday recently found out that they’re not really 100 percent Irish at all, but both have a percent or two of being from the “Iberian peninsula.” That cumulatively makes them Four (i)s, or four eyes. I’ll raise a Guinness Toast to all that!
— King Henry The Eighth, as portrayed on the PBS documentary, (and not the comic Monty Python version), looks just like a Kozy Korner co-owner stalwart, agreed myself and friend Tom (just like those many other cable shows beforehand that we watched simultaneously then quickly referenced by chance right when meeting up). And what about the lookalike for somewhat-controversial, departing CSI star Abbs, who used to work at Dick’s, who after a long-time-no-see I ran into twice in a week.