Showing posts with label legacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label legacy. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

A little poem I found


This little poem hung on the bulletin board of the flyshop I used to run. I have absolutely no idea where it came from, or who wrote it, but it sure is profound, deep, and reflective, which is why it hung where it did. Please let me share this with you. Sit back, pour a nice merlot and enjoy...

Casting Reels

You find them at flea markets
and yard sales,
old South Bends and Pfluegers,
with fancy engraving,
knurled knobs and pearl handles,
spooled with the fraying line
of long stories snarled into silence,
not just exaggerated tales of walleyes, bass, and catfish,
but of hardworking men who on Saturdays sought out
the solace of lakes, who on weekdays at desks,
or standing on ladders,
or next to clattering machines
played out their youth and strength
waiting to set the hook, and then,
in their sixties, felt the line go slack
and reeled the years back empty.
They are the ones that got away...


Thursday, September 4, 2008

Legacies














Estate sales are a good place to find old tackle. Beyond just purchasing an old Pfluger reel, one acquires a piece of history; One persons history. There are stories in that old tackle. Where did that tooth mark in that antique creek chub lure come from? Where was that Mitchell reel used? What kind of trophy trout graced that old wicker creel?
Somebody's life and dreams are tied up in that tackle. Tales of weekend getaways to rivers and lakes where he escaped the factory. Memories and images invaluable to his children. Times where he was connected, even if for a fleeting time to the pulse of nature through rod and line. Connections which we feel in the rough surface of that old reel; connections to him. Did that rod sit by a campfire while he told his family and friends of the big one that got away? What dreams did he have? Were they fulfilled, or deferred? Did he sit by the fire, old and gray, fingering the old rod and reel and dreaming of the days of his youth? Was the owner a heck of an angler in his day? What could you learn from him... if you were willing and patient enough to listen? The bidding will soon start, but linger a while longer... There on the wall is a photo. Is that him? The owner of the tackle? He is dressed in canvas waders and a hunting hat with earmuffs. He is pushing a canoe into the water while a cocker spaniel stands on the shore with love in it's eyes. He is smiling. Look closer at the smile... He looks young, perhaps younger than he is. The smile is pure and carefree. An ageless smile full of the dreams of youth. Where are his children? Why did they not treasure the things he treasured most? Why is the old photo for sale? Doesn't anyone care?
You buy the rods, reels, and photo. Not because you need to, but out of some nostalgic sense of duty. The first time you use the equipment on the stream he will live again.through time, through his adventures and yours, through dreams, through connections.
A legacy.