Sunday, March 23, 2014

Life at The Shire

On Friday afternoon, my friend Royce Railey brought his young son, Lee "R", (I call him Shadrap Buzzbait Rattletrap Railey) over here to The Shire to do some fishing. SBRR is learning the nuances of angling from his dad who is a professional bass fisherman on the FLW tournaments. We all caught fish, but for me listening to SBRR's conversations with his father and observing the loving interaction between them was the best part of the entire experience. As I stood on the opposite bank the sounds of their voices, the particular "spat" of lures hitting the water, bass breaking the surface, or the excited "I got one, Dad!" resonated  across the pond in pitches and echoes that cannot be duplicated.

Simultaneously, off toward the southwest shotguns and other weapons bellowed. I knew it was another friend and father, Todd, teaching his young son, Scott, how to shoot skeet, and fire weapons accurately and safely. The two of them are extremely close and joined at the hip on the weekends.

It's crazy how our minds (at least mine does) chase down lines of thought, but as I slung my own lure in between trees I thought of another father, David, and his son, Walker, who on Saturday morning, the opening day of turkey season, would cover themselves with camouflage, creep into the woods with an assortment of turkey calls and a 12 Gauge Benelli shotgun and try to lure a gobbler into range. Dad does the calling. Son does the shooting. Love that arrangement.

As I sorted through the pleasant sounds coming from the physical world around me and the nostalgic thoughts rising up in the spiritual world within me, I remember sighing, "This father misses his sons… and this son misses his father."

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