Fishing, not catching[Dec 20, 2008]
Howdy all -
It's been a bit of a roller-coaster this past week. There hasn't been much time for paints (frozen) and sidewalk chalk (too dang much white crap on the ground) where I've been. I'm now back in the high desert when the snow stays a respectable distance, so today it is sidewalk chalk. A grand, high and wide picture of an outdoorsman that never gave up - on anything. This blog is dedicated to a good friend and fishing buddy.
There's the old story about death and taxes. Where they are both inevitable. My friend paid taxes all his life - often complaining the whole while. So do I today.
He was probably the most unlucky fisherman I've ever known. But never complained once about it. We went to tournaments, drove thousand of miles all over and usually won the crying towel in the end. We started a yearly get-together on a lake in Minnesota 20 years ago that continues to this day. Took my boys fishing. Would rather fish than eat (a good thing - with our record, we'd have starved). For him it wasn't the catching, it was the fishing. The journey, not the destination.
He put up with several dozen years of my insanity and the embarrassment of my drunken stupidity. He never gave up on me. He was always there when I needed him. He was there when I thought I hated him. He never turned his back on me. Ever.
He was my friend and I'll miss him. His name was Harold, but I called him Dad. He's in a far better place now at God's side, with no pain. I'm happy for him.
Yes, it is hard losing someone you love. Often there are regrets. But not this time. He saw me sober and whole again. He was happy when he died. So I guess he did finally catch the one he was trying for...