The cold front came through and lasted for about a week. I decided to become a fishing sissy. I had no interest in fishing in cold weather with wind thrown in.
And with that start, I walked away from the computer. Since the bulk of it was written in my head, I thought I would get back to it. In my head it sounded good.
Within the next 48 hours the health concerns of three family members rattled around my brain. Not that there was anything I could do about any of them, most times that’s how health concerns work out. But that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t be preoccupied by memories, what’s next questions, what does that mean questions and the nagging doubts of something that got missed.
Suddenly jotting down whether or not I saw much life in a crystal clear cold water creek at the end of March didn’t matter much.
Working with autistic kids over over the next two days gets the brain racing even more. You can’t help but look at them and think of your own kids, presuming they are healthy. Which mine are. Which only proves to me what a crap shoot having healthy kids can be.
Recalling the walk through the woods, the smells of thawed ground and whether or not any fish were hitting become secondary, if on the list of things to think about at all.
You wonder if putting in writing any of those words rattling around your brain is worth the effort. Then, like the fishing post, a few get put down and it’s cut short again.
I was out fishing a week ago. Photographed the same tree again. A fascination that started around 10 years ago and won’t die.
I did catch a fish. A trick cast, 40 feet, slid under an overhanging bush and bumped against a deep undercut bank. A slight twitch on the drop and an immediate sharp tap. A bottom hugging battle that I won.
A momentary settling of troubled brain waves.
“Can I touch its’ eye?”
Sure you can.
“They don’t blink!”
They don’t have eye lids.
“They sleep with their eyes open?”
I’m not sure they sleep. At least not like you.
“Don’t they get tired?”
I don’t know.
If in doubt about an answer, make one up. At least the ability to ask questions is there. An ability I’m afraid we take for granted.
Then one day they’ll catch on and chastise you for making up answers.
And you’ll give them one last answer.
You’ll do the same some day.
Mike
4 Apr 2011Plenty to think about here. Understanding what’s important, and when focusing on what’s NOT important is the right thing to do. Today would have been my son’s 33rd birthday. Remembering, and at the same time trying not to, is on my mind as well. Plenty to think about here. Thanks.
Ken G
4 Apr 2011Sorry about your son Mike.
I have a book of essays by Henry Miller, I love the title.
Remember to Remember.
My wife is a nurses aide that works with people with Alzheimer’s. I hear lots of heart breaking stories.
I’m terrified that some day I won’t be able to remember.
bob long jr
4 Apr 2011I guess I’ve always been – thoughtful. I remember being on the bus at 14 and realizing that no one on their was going to live forever. Every single one of us was finite. It struck home with power. I decided I’d better go home and sneak over to my girlfriend’s basement and get some kisses.
I’ve always watched the adults, especially the older ones. I would see them, getting frail, and compare that to photos sitting on their mantle of them when young and strong. I wondered, “how will it turn out for me?” It made me feel more compassion.
There was a boy in the neighborhood – Randy. He had braces on his legs, but they were small and under his pants, so you couldn’t see them. One day I challenged Randy to a running race. I didn’t know he had braces. I wasn’t fast at all, being a Sears, Roebucks & Co., certified “Husky Lad.” But, I took off from Randy. His gait – I couldn’t call it a stride – was jerky and awkward. I slowed down, but still beat him.
I learned there are, more diffiuclt things than being husky. I don’t know if Randy was embarassed. I certianly didn’t tease him. We were about 11. It was the first time I remembering asking myself, or God: “Why him? Why not me? What happened there?”
That I got no immediate answer – from God or myself – only heightened my sense that, things seem to be fine in my life. But, don’t take it for granted. Be kind.
It was another lesson in humility, generosity, and gratitude for the life YOU have.
Ken G
4 Apr 2011Being a former Sears Husky myself, I tended to hang out with others that were speed impaired. We simply were more selective about what we would participate in. When it came to sports that required more sheer strength and stamina, we kicked butt.
I think that’s why I always ask kids the question “Well, what are you good at? Excel at that.” I don’t care if it’s chess at that point. There’s always something you can be good at regardless of short comings.
I tend to watch things by this guy when I’m feeling sorry for myself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gc4HGQHgeFE&feature=player_embedded
Ed Koper
8 Apr 2011Hey Ken, really liked the link…just left me speechless….
The River Damsel
4 Apr 2011Yes, I think that fish get tired…OF US!!! ; )
Ken G
4 Apr 2011There is a very good chance of that. On the creeks, I try to give them at least a week without me before reappearing to make their lives miserable.