Old Friends on a Fishing Trip

"It isn’t fish they are after"

By Gene Nelson

I have recently returned home from two days of trout fishing with five friends on the Sacramento River, in and near Redding, CA. The fishing wasn’t as good as it can often be on that river, but we all still managed to hook into some nice fish, and we left with more than enough fish stories! I lost one huge fish, but no one seems interested in that story anymore…if they ever were. But since I have been home and thinking about our trip, I have found myself returning to the words of Henry David Thoreau: “Many men go fishing their entire lives. without knowing it isn’t fish they are after.” I’m not sure his words would apply to all the guys on our trip, but they certainly apply to me.

I am now seventy five years old, and in spite of all my efforts at denial, I often find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror and wondering, “Who is this old guy?” And I am feeling it. I wake up almost every morning feeling stiff and sore. “Was I jogging in my sleep?” I work in the yard or garden and find myself taking more and more breaks. “I’ll take care of those weeds tomorrow.” And there have been a few medical issues in recent years. Yet I remain so very thankful that I can still do as much as I can. Overall, I feel pretty darned good. In fact, not long ago I went with our sixteen year old grandson to Magic Mountain in Southern California where we rode roller coasters for two days – our third year in a row! But there is no denying that the clock of mortality is ticking. I can feel it in my bones.

Which brings me back to our trip. Yes, it was a fishing trip, and I truly love fishing, but in all honesty, for me it would have been a good trip even if I had been skunked for two days. Why? One example: Our second night, we decided to go to a local Redding steak house which we all love. We had brought some good red wine to enjoy with our dinner and no one wanted to be a designated driver. So we called a cab company and asked for a vehicle that could hold six. A small SUV showed up at the hotel and we somehow managed to squeeze in. It wasn’t easy. Dislocated joints were a distinct possibility. When we climbed – or fell – out of that cab at the restaurant it looked like a circus clown car. We shared a wonderful dinner, lots of laughs, then had the same car and driver for our trip back to the hotel. He was no doubt wondering what terrible thing he had done to deserve this. I’m not sure if a few glasses of wine made the crowded trip back easier or more difficult, but we made it and are still laughing about it today. And that is my point. Many in our of group have known each other for forty or more years. That’s a lot of fishing trips. And we talked together about what a blessing it is that we can still get together, enjoy each other, and yes, do a little fishing along the way. And we hardly ever mentioned prostate!

What we did mention and reflect on were the empty seats at the table – friends and fellow fishermen whom we have lost or whose health prevents them from joining us. Sadly, that list seems to keep growing.

In their song about “Old Friends” Simon and Garfunkel sing:

“Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be seventy.”

“Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears.”

And later they sing,

“Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph. Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you.”

Of course they were probably in their twenties when they sang these words. I wonder if Paul Simon ever reflects on them now that he has passed eighty? And yes, it often does seem terribly strange to be…75!!! But I am very grateful that I and my friends have so much more than simply a park bench or memories to share, that we can still be together and laugh and fish and share a steak with a good bottle of wine. Yes, the clock is ticking, but we have today, we have each other; there are still fish in the river, and life is sweet and sunlight beautiful.

Gene Nelson was a longtime columnist for Sonoma West Times & News. He retired as pastor of Sebastopol Community Church. This article was first published on his blog “Reflections of a Preacher Man.”

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