All joking aside, I find myself in Indiana, helping my parents get prepped for what is likely to be a really weird couple of weeks and possibly a couple of months in the United States. As small business owners, they and their employees are likely to be hard hit. But, they are a community ready to overcome any bullshit that comes their way.
My mom is badass. She still puts up with me even when she already has to put up with my brother, too. So, to help clear the overcast skies, I took her and my dad to a local creek to scout and collect crinoid fossils. It had been a while since I had heard her laugh like she did out there.
A hearty dinner of S.O.S. has my gut distended writing this post. It’s a relative rarity in the rotations around here. Generally, a favorite of the boys in the family, it made my dad reminisce quietly about KP duty in the military, a rare gem of a story from a treasure trove that he will mostly take to his grave. His stories, his rights; I try not to pry too often.
Tonight, my dad and I are getting some old spinning gear and fly tackle from the garage cleaned up and ready for an early season outing on the lake post-thaw. Which lake? Nun-ya-darn-business lake. We should be able to get some old Zebcos up and running with some line I had in the back of the truck. I have a couple of rods set up already, but he’s obstinate. Just like your old man is, too, I suspect.
Why am I writing now instead of giving a post-fishing action blow-by-blow? Because right now, that’s not what matters to me. Tomorrow’s outing belongs to me and him. Here’s the twist: it also belongs to you, too. At least in a 10,000 foot view kinda way. We are all a community.
I have made great friends through this sport and been mentored by many people in much more than just the way of the fish and fin, rod and reel. So, get out there, be safe with the ones that matter, even if that is only the water and the fish.
Take care yo’self’s, and tightlines out there.