* Editor’s note – The story below may or may not have happened as portrayed. The names and places have been changed to protect the innocent.
“Sorry, no photos please.” I said to Mr. X as I unhooked and returned to the water the large smallmouth. Mr. Y had another feisty Rock Bass on the end of his line. “Four casts and four fish,” he smiled. We had left Mr. Z down river. He could not leave his Panfish infested fishing hole under a large Maple tree dropping caterpillars into the water.
We were fishing no-name River on Wednesday evening. After a long day at our jobs, we joined forces riverside to get wet, cool off, forget the stresses of the day, and, not the least, to catch a few fish. Many years ago, while on a similar fishing trip, I explained to my nephew the importance of mid-week fishing escapes. “If you cannot find the time to fit in an evening of weekday fishing, you life is out of balance,” I explained to him. The cool soothing water on the bare legs, the fading sun behind the trees, the conversation shared with a fishing buddy, and the tight line from a jumping smallmouth is the best therapy any man or woman could ever want or need.
To that end, when I realized I had to make the run back to Westminster to pick up my truck from the garage, I called in the forces for an evening gathering. Yes, the truck had to be put in the garage for some repairs. The starter gave up the fight. I took one look at the clearance between the starter and the exhaust header and figured I would let a real mechanic tackle that job.
Mr. X and Mr. Y were the first to meet me riverside. Mr. Z arrived a few minutes later with refreshments. We toasted the evening with a bottle of suds before entering the magic river. For the next two hours, we stood waist deep in the running water, catching fish and swapping lies of large fish, pretty women and lost fortunes.
Little did these men know beforehand what the magic river had in store for them? A magical place where the fish bite often, jump high and carry a memorizing effect, causing one to forget the outside world while standing in her presence. Sometimes when the conditions are just right, and we open our souls, she will reveal the answer to what troubles us.
Mr. X tossed his beetle spin in front of a fallen tree top resting in the rushing current of the river. His oldest daughter had lost all interest in school. She was skipping school regularly. She was endanger of failing her senior year of high school. He thought of her, as the bait landed perfect up current of the tree top. He was at a loss how to handle the situation with his daughter. He thought of his life choices. He wanted more for her.
A Rock Bass hit the Mepps spinner Mr. Y retrieved along a current break. Unhooking the fish, he thought of his pending lay off. He had a mortgage, two middle school aged kids to cloth and feed and the family minivan was on its last miles. He had worked hard for the company, given them all he knew how, but the economy had hit the business hard.
The 12-inch smallmouth took the hook deep on Mr. X’s beetle spin. “Does anyone have some forceps? This hook is deep.”
“Sure I got a pair.” I said and began to wade over to him.
As he removed the hook from the fish, I asked how the family was doing. Mr. X explained the situation and his concern with his oldest daughter. Two years earlier I had been through the same situation. Through a lot of prayer and profession help, today my oldest daughter is in college and doing well. For several minutes we did not make a cast. We stood with the soothing rushing water hitting our legs and the sun slowly falling behind the trees. Mr. X cleansed his mind of his worries about his daughter. I offered my experience and support.
Mr. Z was intent on working his panfish filled fishing hole. The rest of the group worked up river. His business that was in danger of closing its doors only a few months ago was now busier than he could have ever imagined. The work load on him and his few remaining employees weighed on his mind.
As darkness began to fall on the evening, Mr. Y turned down river and began to fish his way back towards the truck. He watched Mr. Z catch three Rock Bass on three casts. “Boy, you found the hot spot didn’t you.”
“Sure did. Not sure how many fish I’ve caught, I lost count a bunch of fish ago.” The new acquaintances began sharing fishing tales and the fish infested location. They soon discovered they were in the same line of work. Mr. Y expressed his concern of losing his job. Mr. Z looked to his new friend and saw a possible solution to his problems.
Darkness fell on the evening. The four of us sat on tailgates removing our wet boots, sipping a cold beer, and recounting the fish of the night. The magic of the river had placed its spell on us. Mr. Z handed Mr. Y his business card and said, “Give me a call tomorrow and lets set up a time for you to come in to my office, so we can talk of maybe you coming to work of me. I could really use the help.”
I gave the phone number of the counselor that helped my daughter get through her rough times to Mr. X. “She was a big help, my daughter really liked her and hopefully she can help your daughter.” I said to Mr. X before taking on last draw from my beer.
The time came for us to depart home. I hung back and was the last to leave. I stood at gate watching the headlights fade up the long farm lane. I locked the gate and smiled. Once again the magic river had played her music.
