Went down memory lane tonight, beginning with my handwritten fishing log, then this blog, reading posts from 2011 and 2012. My son was a boy, now a man. No problem there, we'll fish, but now that I've re-emerged in our present time, noticing that I blew most of my chance to continue working on my book tonight, I miss my buddy Mike.
His porch was a fish-hub for a couple of years. Now it's all mechanic's tools. Praiseworthy. He makes money.
Once, he spoke about a couple of the guys prominent on the local fishing scene, and I had the opportunity to say something about my own abilities not matching there's. I've got some savvy at getting published, which I began to figure out successfully when I was 16 years old, and I did fish almost every day then, besides, but any of you who read my blog know I don't fish every day now, and I don't catch as many and as big as some around here do, either. When Mike contradicted my self-effacement, it did feel good.
But two years later, I realize the status I enjoyed in that moment really belonged to Mike's porch.
His porch was a fish-hub for a couple of years. Now it's all mechanic's tools. Praiseworthy. He makes money.
Once, he spoke about a couple of the guys prominent on the local fishing scene, and I had the opportunity to say something about my own abilities not matching there's. I've got some savvy at getting published, which I began to figure out successfully when I was 16 years old, and I did fish almost every day then, besides, but any of you who read my blog know I don't fish every day now, and I don't catch as many and as big as some around here do, either. When Mike contradicted my self-effacement, it did feel good.
But two years later, I realize the status I enjoyed in that moment really belonged to Mike's porch.
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