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The year was 1987. The old man turned his head and scowled something under his breath, as I joined the line of 5 or 6 fisherman about 10 yards to the old man’s right side. The location was Fisher Reef in Trinity Bay. I had walked from my boat, which was parked at a respectable distance from the line of fisherman near the drop off, where everyone was giving their attention to the next strike, which was coming, as fast, as they could cast. It was one of those rare moments in a speck fisherman’s life and the old man wasn’t happy that I had joined the party.
On the edge of the steep drop off now, I steadied myself for the first cast, while glancing to my left at the old man. In between giving me an evil eye and stringing up a 3 pound trout, he was now getting ready to cast again. On the other hand, my first drag through the strike zone had come up empty, so I focused a curious eye on the old man’s next cast, as I reeled the rest of the way in.
He made a beautiful cast, which immediately set in motion a deadly chain of events. As he finished the forward motion of his cast, the entire rod slipped through his hands. Without thinking, he quickly launched his entire body forward toward the rod. The rod disappeared into the murky water and he disappeared after it.
I had no time to be startled. I moved toward the spot, where he had been standing, as fast as I could. In the mean time his face just barely broke the surface of the water and disappeared again. As I arrived at the drop off, where he had been standing, fortunately he broke the surface again and was able to grab the end of my out stretched rod and be pulled to safety.
When he reached water swallow enough to stand, he did so, without acknowledging that I even existed. He just started walking toward his boat, while muttering, how he had just lost his brand new rod and reel. I said nothing. What could I say? However, as I made the next cast, I did marvel at how such a life threatening event could go so unnoticed by the other fishermen on the reef. I didn’t see a single man turn his head in our direction. However, that critical thought vanished quickly, since the old man was gone now, and my next cast, thrown from his spot, snagged a nice trout.
Then, something weird happened. The tip of the old man’s rod appeared. I had snagged it and somehow my hook had become caught in the eyelet at the very end, so there was virtually no way I could lose his rod. Now, I did the only thing I knew to do. I turned and hollowed at the old man and said, “ I got your rod!”. He turned around, so quickly, I would have sworn I was looking at a much younger man. Then, while coming toward me faster, than I would have ever dreamed he was capable of, he kept shouting, “You got my rod”! “You got my rod”! When he reached me, as I handed his rod to him, I said, “Not only do I have your rod, but there is a 3 pound trout on the end of it”. Sure enough, he reeled in a 3 pound trout.
“I want you to fish with me anytime”, he said.
Many years have passed now, but the events of that day still haunt me. Each time I think about that old man, I am reminded of how fast the most important things can slip away from us in a flash, if we are not careful. I know you know what I am talking about. That’s right. That old man probably knew more about fishing, than I would be able to learn in the next 20 years, and he had offered to be my fishing buddy, but in youthful stupidity, I just left him standing there, without getting a name and phone number. Can you believe that? How careless was that?
On the edge of the steep drop off now, I steadied myself for the first cast, while glancing to my left at the old man. In between giving me an evil eye and stringing up a 3 pound trout, he was now getting ready to cast again. On the other hand, my first drag through the strike zone had come up empty, so I focused a curious eye on the old man’s next cast, as I reeled the rest of the way in.
He made a beautiful cast, which immediately set in motion a deadly chain of events. As he finished the forward motion of his cast, the entire rod slipped through his hands. Without thinking, he quickly launched his entire body forward toward the rod. The rod disappeared into the murky water and he disappeared after it.
I had no time to be startled. I moved toward the spot, where he had been standing, as fast as I could. In the mean time his face just barely broke the surface of the water and disappeared again. As I arrived at the drop off, where he had been standing, fortunately he broke the surface again and was able to grab the end of my out stretched rod and be pulled to safety.
When he reached water swallow enough to stand, he did so, without acknowledging that I even existed. He just started walking toward his boat, while muttering, how he had just lost his brand new rod and reel. I said nothing. What could I say? However, as I made the next cast, I did marvel at how such a life threatening event could go so unnoticed by the other fishermen on the reef. I didn’t see a single man turn his head in our direction. However, that critical thought vanished quickly, since the old man was gone now, and my next cast, thrown from his spot, snagged a nice trout.
Then, something weird happened. The tip of the old man’s rod appeared. I had snagged it and somehow my hook had become caught in the eyelet at the very end, so there was virtually no way I could lose his rod. Now, I did the only thing I knew to do. I turned and hollowed at the old man and said, “ I got your rod!”. He turned around, so quickly, I would have sworn I was looking at a much younger man. Then, while coming toward me faster, than I would have ever dreamed he was capable of, he kept shouting, “You got my rod”! “You got my rod”! When he reached me, as I handed his rod to him, I said, “Not only do I have your rod, but there is a 3 pound trout on the end of it”. Sure enough, he reeled in a 3 pound trout.
“I want you to fish with me anytime”, he said.
Many years have passed now, but the events of that day still haunt me. Each time I think about that old man, I am reminded of how fast the most important things can slip away from us in a flash, if we are not careful. I know you know what I am talking about. That’s right. That old man probably knew more about fishing, than I would be able to learn in the next 20 years, and he had offered to be my fishing buddy, but in youthful stupidity, I just left him standing there, without getting a name and phone number. Can you believe that? How careless was that?
COMMUNITY WITH A LARGE
PROBLEM AND A 
PROBLEM.
"I love the smell of napalm and watermelon slicks in the mornin'...."
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