You Find Out Who Your Friends Are

Before my life as a fly fisherman, I was a baseball coach. I spent a whole lot of time on diamonds and collected a load of dirt in my socks and shoes. I loved it. In fact, I still love baseball a whole bunch. However, given the choice of baseball or fishing, fishing will win every time. But, I have a special place in my heart for that great old American past-time – hardball. I still love going to ballpark and watching my grandkids (and any kid for that matter – even big ones) play a little league game. Unfortunately, the big leagues are a stinking mess – what with huge salaries and even bigger muscles (brought to you by your neighborhood steroid store) – but it is still an American classic. There is still something very special about the sights, smells, and sounds of the game of baseball. Anyway, I am not here to talk about baseball, but rather friendships.

Just recently, one of the guys I coached with for years met with an untimely end. He was taken too soon and he was a wonderful friend and buddy. We spent many an hour together talking about baseball, but more importantly we talked about life. He was like a brother to me and I still can’t believe he is gone. The park where we spent much of our time just built a new memorial structure overlooking the diamond and they are going to put a plaque up in dedication to him. He deserves it. He was a special guy and I miss him dearly.

While I was in reflection on his life and our times together, I started thinking about my other friendships – especially those with my fishing buddies. I began to wonder what it really means to be a friend – a truly good friend. And then, I wondered what kind of friend I have been. If I were to ask those that I call friends, what kind of friend I have been, I hope I would get a positive response. But that really is all in the past. I can’t take it back and I can’t relive it. But, I will tell you what I can do. I can go forward. I have resolved to be the kind of friend in the future (and more importantly, in the here and now) that I would like to have. I hope I have been a good friend, but you can be sure I am going to be a better one in the future.

What does this friend look like?
· Someone who is a giver and not a taker.
· Someone who you can call at 2 a.m. if you desperately need something.
· Someone who never talks behind your back.
· Someone that would do anything for you – ANYTHING!
· Someone who would defend your honor (because it is worth defending).
· Someone who would watch our over your loved ones after you are gone.
· Someone who doesn’t play games – only shoots straight.
· Someone who forgives and forgets.
· Someone who enjoys your company in spite of yourself.
· Someone who watches out for you and doesn’t forget you.
· Someone who shows up when it matters.
· Someone who doesn’t keep score on the things that really matter in life.
· Someone who will shoot you straight when they need to.

My good buddy and baseball coach who left us was that type of friend. My life was far richer for having had him part of it. I am thankful that we spent the time we did together. What a good buddy he was. As a side-note, he too was a fisherman. I can only hope that I can be that kind of friend someday. I know that I am working on and I hope that you are too.

You think about that. TL

Spinnin' Ain't For Moi

I was sipping a little Tennessee whiskey the other evening, smoking a cigar, and sitting by one of my favorite hidden streams (location not to be disclosed…I could tell you, but I would have to kill you and that probably wouldn’t be any fun for either of us) and I was pondering the meaning of life. Well, not really. I was actually pondering this whole fly fishing thing. I thought back to when I first tried the sport and how odd everything felt. Casting was strange (vs. my spinning gear), the terminology about blew my mind, and I was afraid I wouldn’t fit into the “club” (not the Ozark Fly Fishers club, but the larger club of fly fisher people everywhere). And then, one day, it clicked. The whole thing fit me like a pair of Levi’s that hadn’t been washed for six months. Bam! I was more at home fly fishing than pulling out the spinning gear. I was a bona fide fly fisherman.

Now…back to the stream. I had come to do some later afternoon fishing for smallies, but I was so taken by the beautiful spring afternoon that I just plopped down my camp chair, grabbed a seat, and soaked it all in. I was just so damn happy to be outside and away from people, and traffic, and e-mail, and voice messages, and bills, and concrete, and noise, and, and, and, that I almost couldn’t see straight. I was just so thankful that I have had the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors and get involved in this sport that I love – fly fishing. I am not even sure how much I fished, but it was good to be there. And, it was good to have my 9 foot 5 weight by my side.

So, I am making a proclamation. I am a fly fisherman. There…I said it and I feel better. I may not be the best fly fisherman this side of the Atlantic, but I also know I am not the worst. I am a “middle of the packer” and, although I would like to improve (and I will), I am pretty darn happy to be where I am at. “I ain’t got it all that bad.”

You might have seen me rolling down an Ozark stream in my canoe hunting down bronze-backs. You might catch me on occasion in my belly boat on a Missouri pond stalking the warm water species. I am even insane enough to fish for trout during the winter catch and release season. I have been known to head north, south, east and west in search of new waters. Chasing the saltwater species is an experience I can’t seem to get out of my system – amazing. I have even caught some monster Wipers on my fly rod from an Arkansas lake. I love to catch anything with fins on these long skinny rods – bamboo, fiberglass, or graphite – it just doesn’t matter.

I have three of everything that I don’t need. Waders, boots, rods (okay, maybe I have more than three – maybe lots more) and much, much more. My vest weights 24 pounds (before it gets wet) and I know that I am never carrying what I need in there. Never! So, I go back to the fly shop in search of that gadget or thingamabob that will give me the edge on the water, driving me from a “middle of the packer” to “almost a guide” status. Unfortunately, a much wiser person told me that the “silver bullet” just doesn’t exist. They are right, but I won’t stop looking. I am looking for an attachment that prevents wind knots. Please let me know if you have one for sale. Name your price.

You think about that. TL