one of my favorite memories of time spent with columbus was fishing with him up at the mountain lake. gently he handed me a fishing pole and explained the fish thereabouts and we made our way down to the shoreline. i could have stood there all day, my line in the water, casting again and again and dreaming. surrounded by mountains and aspen trees and tall pine, i was standing in heaven. the fish didn’t really matter.

the times i spent fishing on long island were generally from a boat. crunch and i would mosey out into the sound – at all times of day or night – and drop in a line. we’d talk quietly and ponder life and watch the stars and drift a bit. it, too, was a bit of heaven. and it never really mattered if there was anything on the stringer at the end of the day.

up in ely, 20 took us out on the vast lakes. the boundary waters were absolutely quiet. we dropped in lines with no real expectation. trolling around, we were surprised when we ended the day with a few fish. i can’t remember that i caught any of them.

i haven’t ever fished in wisconsin. no real reason. we prefer the pontoon boat up north or getting a little lost in time in the canoe.

and it is true – i’m not really good at fishing. though i relish the time in the boat or, better yet, on that mountain shoreline, it’s not really the fish that matter.

what matters is the serenity found in the waiting, the time spent outside being quiet together, the being there.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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