Okay, here is a new term for ya.

Text Fishing.

With the rain we have received the local rivers are just blown out, and the small windows of opportunity that may arise are usually during a time when I am least able to enjoy them. So what is an angler to do when he wants, and might argue that he needs, time on the water?

I have resigned myself to fishing vicariously through the written word. Internet surfing about fly fishing, perusing every old magazine I can find, and reading the works of Gierach, Babb, and any other book I have on the sport. This really is not a bad thing because I am an avid ready anyway, but I have leaned heavily on text fishing over the past few weeks. Maybe this week will change…just in case, I got a new magazine in the mail a couple of days ago that I am holding in reserve…

Rain

I have always been a lover of rainy days. To me, nothing is more relaxing than a cool day when the sky is just a solid wash of gray and the rain is not falling in torrents, just a steady slow flow. To be out on days like this usually means that you will have the river to yourself. Just like I like it. I have caught most of my bigger fish on days like this, and some of my best God time as well.

I am ready for the rain to give me a break.

I'm sure you have heard at one time or another the old adage, "be careful what you pray for...you just might get it...", well....I am there.

Tailwaters are blown out, the smokies are full as well. This is good in a way because it means that this horrible season of drought is behind us for a time, but dadgumit I wanna go fishing!

When it is the middle of November and the lakes are at the same level they were in this past July, you can be sure that getting any significant water time is hard to pull off. Timing must be just right and if they provide a small window of no generation, you have to do the math, account for distance from the dam, it is just a lot of work to get time in.

Perhaps I should look at it as a blessing.

Sometimes God blesses us in ways that don't look like we have His favor. Perhaps this high water has afforded me the chance to get some stuff done that I have been putting off. I have my fly box refilled, have worked extensively on rods, and have started trying to get this middle aged body back as close to its original shape as I can. Another thing this time of high water has done is made me more aware of the blessing I have in being able to fly fish; not to take anything for granted.

I hope the rain stays away for a little while.

I love moving water. The sound of it, the smell, the beauty that surrounds it. I have spent many hours standing in it watching a small fly of feather and wire dance in the myriad current changes. I know what it is like to feel the stress of every day life wash down stream. I also know that with the right set of circumstances, death dwells in moving water.

The second weekend in August had been marked on my calendar for weeks. One of my best friends and for sure one of my all time favorite fishing partners and I had planned a weekend getaway to go after the big brown trout of the South Holston. We set up camp, loaded our pontoons and headed up river.

After putting in up near the dam, I found myself in dire circumstances as my pontoon hit a tree that had fallen in the river. The pontoon was flipped and I went head first into the tree and became trapped within its branches. I was completely under water. Not exaggerating when I say that my life flashed before my eyes. Yet even though the situation was terrifying, the hand of providence did not deem it my time to leave and I managed to pull my head above water.

I’ll skip most of the story, but suffice to say that being trapped in a tree in 49 degree water after almost drowning is something that I do not want to do again. But I also made sure that as soon as I could, I would get back in the water.

Ironic, but my biggest fear used to be drowning. Now my biggest fear is dying without seeing my children grow to adulthood.

The pontoon was a loss, my rod was broken, my day was shot (as well as my friends), but I was given a very special gift in that moment of clarity when the weight of what just happened finally settled on me.

I am a blessed man, with family and friends that far exceed what I deserve.

It is also worth noting that we caught some very nice fish that weekend.

Though I am not a complete social introvert, and have no huge “issues” with people or with crowded places, I am much more at ease and confident within myself if I have the chance to escape. Right now I am at the stage where I am just tired. Not sleepy, but bone tired. The next phase of my conundrum is what I like to call my caged animal phase. I really want to avoid that. If you have ever been to the zoo and watched some large cat or bear just pacing back and forth you know where I am coming from. Though the creature is well cared for and is safe, you can see in its eyes the longing to roam.

I also look at my wife. What an amazing woman she is. Like the energizer bunny she just keeps going. I admire her to the utmost. It is incredible the things that she does, the myriad of directions she can go in simultaneously, and the way she keeps everything sorted out in her head. She far outranks me. Most of the time I feel as though I am just hanging on as she speeds past. To her, down time is sleep, and she gets very little of it.

What I need is to slow down, whittle down the stuff, sit, write, fish. It has been roughly one month since I have jumped off the tracks, and it is starting to show. I am not sleeping well, my body is rebelling, my mind is fighting just to sort out everything.

I am not in the mindset of complaint. Everything that is going on is a gift from God and I am very thankful for all that we have and have the ability to do, but dadgumit, I am loosing myself within it and it scares me to death.

Though I am not old, I am older, and although I never thought I would feel it…I do. I am almost embarrassed to admit it, but I am weary. There is an old gospel song that says “I am tired, I am weary, I am worn”, that could be my anthem right now.

In my soul I can hear and feel the rush of the river. I can feel the wonder of eagles soaring overhead. I can almost taste the silence. But it all is faint and right now it seems like it would take a major quest to find it. The problem is that the quest is very low on the priorities list and doesn’t show signs of rising anytime soon. I might be able to get to the river in the morning before work, but that would just have me watching the time so that I am not late. I am so weary that I don’t even have the desire to fight that one, so I’ll most likely get up, get ready, and drive straight to work. My employer might not count on me for much, but my family does. And though it is a weighted statement that does not easily roll off the tongue, the wild side of me will just have to keep pacing in the cage a little longer.

Today I start novel number 3.

It is, for me at least, an exciting thing when I look at a blank page. The possibilities are endless and as the story unfolds in my head and appears on the paper the potential for surprises are always in the air. I have lived each book in my head for months before I actually start writing. This book has been brewing in my head for at least ten years, and tonight it starts taking shape.

For me the writing process is slow. I formulate in my mind, and when it is time to write, I do not use a computer. Pen and ink. The old fashioned kind. A jar of India ink and a #102 dip pen sends me off and running. Why write like this? Quite simply, it causes me to slow down, to reflect on each word. The whole process from start to finish can take a long time, but my edits and rewrites are few so it kinda balances out.

Like most people who write, I have yet to be published other than a few internet sites. So why do it? Honestly, I can’t help but do it. Writing is part of who I am. I have no choice. It compels me.

For those of you who may be avid readers, I write fiction of the Southern variety, and oddly enough, most of my stories are about women. I don’t quite understand why but in my writing the women are always at odds with life and difficulties and the men are earthy, stoic, and strong.

So, tonight I start writing about Demarith. A biography if you will. A life lived by a woman who worked hard, endured hardship, and loved. The setting is the coal mines of Tennessee and Kentucky during the depression and beyond. I’ll keep those who care updated as I go along.

Who knows maybe with this one my dream will come true and I’ll see it go to print.

Every other year there is a conference on southern fiction in Chattanooga. I always go and always leave inspired. My last trip I actually met one of my “heroes”, Wendell Berry. That really started a fire for this new book. If you have never read any of Mr. Berry’s work, I suggest “A Place on Earth”. An unrecognized classic.

And so….it begins…..

Thoughts on Father's Day

I did not “find the river” this Father’s Day, and if I had, it would have been to high and muddy to fish. But I found something better. I found time with my family. No major cleaning, no running around, no mess, just an afternoon with my family.

It is amazing how relaxed I was just hanging out.

The kids gave me gifts, I had an awesome lunch, and just let the day unfold. It is amazing to me just how much of “old Marc” I rediscovered yesterday. I guess I let to many things stress me out, and how much my surroundings impact my frame of mind. Perhaps we are all like this, but for me, this was a sort of epiphany. I am not a neat freak, and far be it from me to consider myself a clean freak, but when I have room to move, I unwind quickly. Maybe that is why I love the river so much. It is an open expanse that just moves at a pace that is perpetual and its sounds are so soothing. Yesterday was much like that. The sounds of my family, the steady pace of the day. What a blessing!

I love my wife and our children so much, and most of the time it seems like we love each other on the fly; go here, go there, pick up, clean up, etc. But yesterday, we sat around a table together, we ate a terrific meal, we watched some T.V., and we talked. We had space to move and interact, and I could not be more filled with love for my wife than I was yesterday.

I guess that I am a hard person to deal with. I am very particular about what makes up my “peace”, and should probably try to expand that issue, but when all the parts come together as they did yesterday, I am as happy and content as I can be. At one point my wife said that she wished I could have gotten to go fishing. Even if I could have, I wouldn’t have wanted to because I was happy and a peace. No need to find a river to clear my head and wind down. Everything I needed was right there and it was amazing.

Hope my brothers had the same joy.

If not.

There’s always the river…………..

Thoughts on a birthday

There is a time in life when you concede the fact that birthdays really aren’t the be all- end all. When you figure that you are halfway through this life if you are lucky, each year that passes is the sound of approaching days that you’d rather just avoid, even though avoidance is an impossibility.

With that in mind, I let my children, who still add the half to their years (i.e. 9 ½ etc.) make my birthday plans for me. After an extensive time of deliberation the results were presented to me.

Here is the itinerary for my 44th birthday.
Work.
Vacation Bible School Commencement.
“The very, very biggest” cup of Starbucks coffee I want.
And, of course, what would a birthday be without cake and ice cream!...at Chucky Cheese!!!!!!!!!

In my office, I have on my wall and excerpt from “Within My Power” by Forrest Witcraft. It reads as follows.

“One Hundred Years form now
It will not matter
What kind of car I drove,
What kind of house I lived in,
How much money was in my bank account
Nor what my clothes looked like.
But the world may be a better place because
I was important in the life of a child.”

Yes, the day after my birthday will be spent on the river. But the actual day of my birth will be at Chucky Cheese with a very, very big cup of Starbucks coffee, cake and ice cream, and the gift of four little ones who still think their old man is pretty cool.

And that suits me just fine.