Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Lucky Man

I have never been a man of means. Unless you consider stubbornness and persistence to be means. (Maybe they are, but you sure as hell can't fold them up and put them in your wallet.) I was not born with a silver spoon in my was more of a clunky, metal Coleman camp spoon. And I did not fare well in the classroom scene, so there were no grants or scholarships rewarding my graduation. I didn't even attend my high school graduation. About the time my fellow classmates were being handed their diplomas and flipping their orange and blue tassels from one side of their silly hat to the other...I was being handed an Entrenching Tool and attempting to disassemble (and reassemble) an M16 in the the dark. And then, for most of the years of my civilian life that followed, my blue-collar work ethic and Army-induced sense of loyalty were generally taken advantage of by selfish girlfriends and crooked employers. But I kept on keepin' on. Put in 80 instead of 40. Never settled. Never satisfied. And as they say, within 12 hours the stopped clock is right...the dumb hog gets his nut...and sooner or later the studio apartment full of circus chimps bangs out a best seller on an old typewriter. Things begin to fall into place. I start getting published. My flies begin turning up in more and more fishing reports and fly boxes. And a real fisher-woman falls in love with me. Finally met my Eddy. Yup...things start to happen. But, I have kind of lost track of all the things going on in my life this past year. Too many things. Too many hours. Too busy.

But...three days ago things all slowed down long enough for me to actually focus on what was in front of me. My sister was back around to this side of the globe. Her annual migration. And she got to meet Erin. My Eddy. These sort of meetings can go a multitude of ways...sisters and new girlfriends. Rottweilers showin' teeth and sniffin' ass. We have high standards for the mates of our siblings. New members of the tribe. So there was only one way to do it, I figured...take them to a bass pond and see what transpired. Forrest said, peas and carrots! They hit it off. And caught a lot of fish, too. I made a few casts, but mainly just hung around to take photos.

That is about the time it hit me. Standing in warm, waist-deep bass water...swatting mosquitoes, fiddling with the camera...and grinning. Damn I am a lucky man!

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