The Old Man and the River

 

Something or someone was pushing

     him in my way for a reason.

 

   The girthy muskellunge shook its massive head violently from side to side at the surface then dived under the boat. The line began slipping gradually from the reel as the fish turned and made a lunging run toward a mid-river logjam. Thumbing the reel spool only put more pressure on the line before it finally parted.
    My heart had been going ninety miles an hour and nearly burst from the instantaneous relaxation. I stared at the logjam in disbelief, hoping the great fish would roll up from the tiring battle. If ever there was a fish to fret over, it was this one. They're called The King for a reason. Then a noise upstream drew my attention.
    It was him. Silently they had approached the scene in another boat and watched the battle to its bitter end. He was with a young man, and they both had witnessed most of the fight. 
    "Nice fish," he stated sympathetically. "At least you know where there's a big ‘un now."
    I remember thinking, "Just who is this old geezer and why does he care that I just lost the biggest muskellunge I'll ever hook in my life?"
    "Thanks," I ungraciously mumbled. 
    The old man nodded then told me any other fisherman would have gone ahead and taken a cheap shot at the struggling fish with their gaff hook while it was at the boat. 
    "God, if he only knew the half of it," I softly grumbled through gritted teeth. I did have my gaff hook in hand, high above my head when the big fish was thrashing at boat side, but I held off using it for fear of severing the line should I miss. I never considered wounding the fish and having it break off only to lose it because of my thoughtlessness.
    "At the least, she escaped with only an injured ego," he stated, attempting to console me further.
    He was right. Hammering that fish with the gaff hook at the boat, as I had intended, wouldn't have been the smart thing to do. I had elected not to, thinking I could land the fish in a fair fight. There would be another time, I hoped, and I or some other angler would be more deserving because of it. I felt a little better about the loss. I now know where The King lives. Then they were gone, back up the river.
    The following weekend I was back in the middle of that same eddy, looking for The King, expecting to find its corpse. Halfway through the eddy I saw the old man, standing on the bank behind his house, casting. I made small talk with him as I fished from my boat. A congenial old cuss, I thought, but something didn't feel right. Here I was in a spacious and comfortable fishing boat that would hold two people, with luxuries not usually afforded in an old wooden flat-bottomed Jon-boat the likes of his.
    Something pushed me to ask him to fish with me for the rest of the day, and he welcomed the opportunity. When we had gone about fifty yards, he blurted out, "Gonna have to git me one of these padded chairs, ya know." I pictured him sitting in a padded seat in his old wooden riverboat. "It'll work," I told him, "it'll work."
    He was a retired coal miner with a severe case of emphysema, and his continued smoking didn't help it any. His condition wasn't too bad when we first met, using his portable oxygen bottle now and then and only when he got excited or hot. I kept a cooler on board with several bottles of iced-down water in it.
    Delbert was a likable sort, cheerful and always seeing the positive side to almost everything. I'd been looking for balance in my young life, and he certainly provided a lot of that. We went fishless that day, and it wasn't as painful as it would have been without him along. I thought I might just enjoy this sociable old codger after all as our relationship started to grow. 
    Over the weeks and months, I discovered his respect for this river we fished as we lazily drifted on its slow current. When he talked, I listened as he told me who was who in each home we came to along the highway side of the river.  He knew them all and, over time, shared them with me, introducing them to me when they were out tending their gardens or doing yard work. I was fully enjoying his company more than the fishing...

Find out what happens when the book comes out!