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Sunday, May 19, 2019

In the Center of Open Spaces


Some days remind you of larger frames, those days when you find yourself in the center of open spaces, passing through majestic sequences of ordinary hours. You're out in the open under clouds and sun, between sloping hills and trees--not behind doors, windows, and walls--so you might feel an inkling of openness to the extraordinary. If inklings of better visit you while on the job, as they do me, they're mental then, while out here reality itself assures you of a worthwhile world.

I believe most of my readers take in a paragraph like that I just wrote--thanks for reading--and it goes from one end of the brain and out the other without arousal suggesting any commitment. The problem with the world, which people have increasingly called crazy over the past decade, is that people don't shed their thick skins. They build walls of defense so the world doesn't hurt them, and then they end up out-of-touch with any world that will do them good, feeling all the worse. Petty concerns rule the hours and little light penetrates a circuitous habit of means to small ends.

I don't mean to insult you. Especially if you're not that reader, and instead you're not only in agreement with me, but manage to get past triviality. But it's a growing frustration of mine that so many affirmations I engage with the world and account for--to some degree--in this weblog, these seem to get past people as if it's sentimentality. If that's all awareness amounts to--an impractical feeling that will never amount to dollars and sense--then I'm with you. The hell with values and literature. If it amounts to nothing, as most people seem to believe, then I'll resolve to reporting nothing but the plain stupid facts.

Today was a better day than that.

Matt's away in Boston for the summer. My wife and I got word from him this afternoon. He plans on visiting in mid-June. A year ago he caught his first hybrid striper over five pounds. Today Michael Vandenberg and I went out hoping for more, and though we encountered none that big, except perhaps for one fish in Lake Hopatcong's Byram Cove that broke my somehow weakened line too quickly for me to tell what kind of fish, we caught five beautiful bass, the biggest 19 inches, the others ranging between 14 and 18 1/2 inches.

My one concern focused on Michael catching a nice one. That 18 1/2-iucher in the photo was a keeper. But as everything well-planned and well-executed goes, once the chief objective is achieved, the day opens up to greater possibilities. It doesn't matter if a finger can't be put on them. Just this day was one to be remembered, not only because we enjoyed trolling hybrids, but because after we caught some, we felt free to include our work worlds within the wider context of what really makes any of it possible.

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2018/05/lake-hopatcong-trolled-hybrid-stripers.html

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