City Slickers

Patience…that is something have not mastered, much less practiced.  I find myself frustrated more than not and sometimes I embarrass myself.  Yelling in traffic or busting knuckles while fixing “things” in my fleet of old vehicles and boats.  I can be a quite a sight to see.  I don’t think it is the difficulty level of the task, but rather it is expectations I put on myself.  Sure, if you have ever met me, I come across as a very laid back and relax person, but under it all the wheels are spinning.  Sometimes they spin right of the axle again, again, and again.  When will I learn?  When will I remember to take the time to reset my batteries.  My patience seems to wane when I get tired, not physically but my mind and soul need a break.  As an artist the wheels are always turning and it is not just something I can turn off at will, therefore my mind hardly ever seems to rest.

A couple of weeks ago Margaret informed me that I needed to leave and take a break….NOW!  With my fly rods and a small bag of cloths packed, I took off for the streams and cooler weather of North Carolina.  I took my time driving through back roads of beautiful Georgia, South Carolina, but still found myself very impatient and anxious.  (no telling what would have happened if I had gone through Atlanta)

I stayed with my good friend/college roommate and his family for a couple of days.  They have always been very hospitable and a pleasure to visit.  (I hope the feeling is mutual) We set out in the mornings with a cup of coffee and plans of great success on the stream.  The first day we floated the Watauga River in East Tennessee and the Pigeon River the following day.  Unfortunately it took me until the end of the second day to finally unwind a bit and begin to clear my head.  At the end of day, the sun had set and I was getting rowed home in the flat water found in the mountains of East Tennessee.  I sat in the back of the raft with my feet on the large lead river anchor listening to the conversation and the tranquil sound of the oars dipping in the water.  It was symphonic and it seemed to replenish my soul with every stroke.  Something so simple as spending the day on the water with good friends.  One knows when it happens.  It is when the peace that God intended us to experience washes over us and we notice the small things around us that seem to forget existed.  As for me, I feel embarrassed and ashamed that I have neglected it all.  But, it is like Gods grace, it forgives me and welcomes me back.  And yes,  it is a welcome homecoming.

As I made my way home by the same route I took four days earlier, it was like I never had driven this road before.  I was at peace a had cleared my mind and soul like had done many times before when I was younger and live a lifestyle that was less demanding.  I am Mitch in the end of the movie City Slickers.  Curley said we all had to find that “one thing” that made us live and gave us purpose in life. I get it now and know what that one thing is, I just have to be reminded time after time.  We are human; we all have a little Mitch in us…..and you know,… that’s OK .

Patience or lack of patience is an symptom of a larger problem.  Take inventory of yourself and recharge your batteries when your mind and soul get weak.  If you are driven like me, it isn’t easy, but it is as important as anything you could do for yourself and your family.   Sure, I would love to heard cattle through Colorado, but for now I will stick to the casting in the streams.  See you on the water.

A Good Evening of Fishin'

I came home from work this evening to find Will had one of his best friends over to play on this muggy Friday afternoon.  They were standing over a fallen limb like a soldier that had just breathed his last breath, with purpose and intrigue.  I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their 10 year old minds, what their plans were for this fallen soldier.  “We are going to use this limb to build a fort”, they said.  Perfect!  What a great idea!  So I gave them a hand saw and hatchet to put to good use cutting it up into pieces for the grand fort I envisioned.  Well, they got it cut up and vanished.  There it laid; in a pile that looked to be burned rather than the fort that I had envisioned.  I called for them and found that they were playing on the computer in his room.  Now, I’m not totally against computers and such, but there is so much more that two 10 year old boys could be doing on a Friday evening at 6:30 other than playing inside….on the computer.

With all that being said, I sent them down to the pond at the bottom of the hill with two fishing poles, a tackle box and some stale bread.  Molly and I walked down there a little later to check on the fisherman who had marched down the hill with purpose and excitement.  We found them frustrated that they couldn’t keep the bread on the hooks that resulted in what I call, “fishing on credit”.  I made them some small bait and showed them how to wet the bread a little and “mash” it into a small ball that will stay on the hook and not float away.  Now, we were in business!  Over the next 45 minute to an hour  I must have watched them catch 50 small bream and shiners, all the while Molly helping put the fish back in the water.  This success wasn’t a result of my wonderful bread ball making ability, rather it is all the fish that have washed down from the upper lake during hurricanes and huge thunderstorms we have here in North Florida.  I sat and watched with complete satisfaction.  Some people watched Fox News and CNN this evening; I watched three kids excited with every cast and the joy of a job well done.  My favorite moment is always when the rodeo begins as they get the fish off the hooks only to drop them on the dock and have them flop and thrash about until they are put back in the water.  I sit hoping  they won’t get finned, but they’ll live and learn.

Molly and I walked back home to get something to drink and the truck; as it was getting late and time to call it a day.  The boys each caught one more fish, gathered their gear and headed back to the truck as I arrived  at the pond.  With the  my three fisherman’s feet dangling from the tailgate, we made our way back up the hill towards home. As a kid myself, this was how I remember the ride home from the barn with my grandfather at the end of the day.  It was hot and muggy as if the thick Bahia grass would just hold the moisture until the fall winds would blow it away.  It didn’t matter back then; that was just the way it was.  I was a kid, just like the ones on my tailgate, oblivious of how good this world can be; or just how ruthless it can be.  As we closed out the day with a good evening of fishing,  we all saw the good side of life.  And as for the fort, well it will just have to wait for another day.