Growing up in the Mid-West, I had many opportunities provided me by the land that I just did not take. I lived amongst the deciduous forest of Indiana, and could not tell you the names of any trees there. I walked the rows in corn fields and skipped stones on it's ponds, but never planted a seed or spent many nights with the frogs and snakes. I was a city boy, through and through, even when we rented a house in farm country surrounded by woods, I had video games. I am not complaining, it was a decent life, and privileged for sure, albeit disconnected. I did not learn my barbaric yulp from echoing it into the vast open fields and dense forests, I learned it talking in bars, and on the ball field. This is my learning now, not just Fair and Whitman's.
Last week we picked up some bamboo fishing poles and headed out for a day of doing what fishers have always done best....nothing really. We had our hearts set on heading to the wildlife conservatory, not too far from the house, but had to settle for a closer, more accessible setting, for a few reasons, but mostly due to time constraints. Time is an unforgiving thief.
We found a local spot that is rumored to maintain cleaner levels than the river, and we decided to give it a go. The unfortunate thing being that because this was an official, state cleaned park, we would be needing a fishing license. We hit the store, picked up some red wigglers and purchased a license, where we had to show ID and pay $12. Whitman, not one to accept anything as gospel, protested the giving of my ID and was more than a little curious why we had to plop out all that cash. I explained that the state collects this money to offset the cost of stocking public waters and cleaning the ones they allow to be destroyed for profit. This is what we call extortion. If we do not pay, they would then be telling us that due to our lack of payment, less water can be kept clean from the polluting hands of, well themselves. Whitman was not pleased and Fair and he both spoke about their wishes to one day rid the waters of poisons and rid the land of it's polluters. This is the passion we are all born with, and it is my belief that school and work steal this away from us. In fact, there is a good chance that some reading this will inevitably say "that is so cute" when reading about the kids observations, and then get to a point where they may even say "those kids are brainwashed" when reading about the kids outspoken nature. This is a sickness. To trivialize the ability of the children to understand is borne from your own guilt of being busted, and your indignance towards those who call you out. To assume that anyone with ideas and passions is brainwashed, especially based on their age, is ludicrous. Children have fiery passion, and a great understanding of compassion, of justice and of gentleness that adults have had beaten out, bought out, and sold out of them.
Onto the eternal patience, and quiet joy. Fair and Whitman both seemed to settle in to the setting pretty well. Plopping down their butts onto the lakeside mud and digging right into the worms, they really took on the fishing experience full force. After a few moments showing how to safely handle a hook and what knot works well to hold it on, we were stabbing worms and throwing lines in. We could feel the calmness naturally settle in after the initial excitement of being there lulled. Jason and I explained that silence is key when fishing, and patience is not only a virtue but a pre-req of the day. Fair began to understand that sound travels in waves and can resonate through the water at a much different level than it does through air, so remaining quiet and speaking in low tones was necessary to not stir the fish. She embraced it, opening her eyes farther and extending her neck more, as if to allow her body to scream with joy and not her voice. She was 100 percent in the moment. I am not sure I have been that aware in years.
Then it happened.
We pulled in our first first. A bass, coming in at an astounding 8 ounces!
The kids were amazed, and nervous. They wanted to touch the fish but learned that when catch-and-release fishing, it is best to handle the fish as little as possible. So we gloved up and removed the hook and sent the fish on it's way. All said, we pulled in 4 fish, two with Whit, one for Jason and one for me. Fair didn't grab any that day, but this is the part that I love, she as in no way less excited about it. There was no competition, at all. It was pure joy.
and Jason pulled in the catch of the day!
No comments:
Post a Comment