The glorious celebration of the Declaration of Independence of the United States of America has come and gone. Friends and family celebrated all over the land. In fact, they were still celebrating at midnight last night where we live. Fireworks thundered around us. The dog trembled beside me; he really dislikes such noises ever since we left South America for the Southern America of the northern hemisphere. I think thunder and lightning, something he had never experienced, has a lot to do with it.
We celebrated at a lake some 90 miles north of here. It's a nice lake, with 28 miles of shoreline. My brother-in-law carried his very nice boat up there. The majority of the family climbed in it and took off for fun on the water. I remained behind to wet a hook with my Daiwa open faced spinning reel; it was the first time since 2002, or maybe '03, that I had been able to use that rig. I think a man can't claim to be a fisherman if he hasn't fished since then (don't lose that thought; I'll go somewhere with it).
My first cast in 8 years resulted in what I did not want to see: my best spinner bait flying freely across the lake and into the water. Somehow my handsome 2-year-old grandson had managed to get tangled in the line while the pole was sitting by the chair they set him in. And the line subsequently wrapped around the handle. So when I cast the line, the whip action set in motion a freedom my lure could have only enjoyed as it hurtled across the open waters. The bass sat below the surface laughing, no doubt.
Those bass later amused themselves by striking lazily at my attempts to lure them with other spinners. They do that sometimes. They do it often with me. I could almost hear their gurgling laughter below the water...
After an hour of trying different lures, I gave up and went back to the clan who had gathered under the trees where we had set up our picnic. I got there in time to see them run off for round two on the water. More of us stayed behind that time.
And then came the rains. Not just rain. Thunder and lightning. The park ranger made us get into our cars (the boaters had returned--a wise move). My grandson climbed into our car, which he claims as his. His mom's car is hers; my wife's car is hers. But my SUV belongs to Michael; he cries out when he sees it, "MY car!" He sat in my lap, hands wrapped around the steering wheel, steering wildly. I thought his actions reminded me of a taxi driver in Lima.
We were in the car to evade the lighting and rain. That's when I felt it: water, slowly soaking into my lap. You can guess why. I decided I would stand in the rain for awhile... The lightning was preferrable to the sensation of that kind of water.
We were finally driven away from the lake by the storm cells. One would end, but another would form just as quickly. We saw no break in sight.
I went home reminded of two things: sometimes someone is going to pee on you when you least expect it. That's just part of life.
But worse, if you don't fish more than once or twice in a decade, you really aren't a fisherman.
And if you don't win souls any more often than that; neither are you a soul-winner.
I'm just sayin'...