When we are on the stream I continue to see a complete disregard
for the rights of others. Dave and I witnessed one evening people
wading through the river above us kicking sand downstream. If any
trout would have felt like rising that would surly have put them down.
I didn't bring my Glock with me so all survived. Dave just winced
and ducked his head. It was a good thing they were above Dave, not
me as I would have probably reverted to my hillbilly ways and
discussed their probable parentage.
There is an obvious fault in the system. We should either educate
these dummy's or each of us should carry a Glock.
I have been so irritated by their uncaring ways I have thrown my
fly rod at them and had to wait for full daylight to find it in the stream.
Once I had to leave the stream because I had reached in the
two-foot-deep water to grab a rock to throw. I had to retreat to
the truck to change. I managed to get three or four good throws off
though. I guess I don't fit the traditional turn the other cheek fly fishing
image. My next wading staff will be a solid ash one, big enough around
to pound lumps and knots on a rhino. I will probably find a use for it at
least four or five times a year. As I get older its harder to get by without
one. I may use the license plate I found on the street to avoid the legal
hassles. My lawyer suggested I might make a bad defendant. My kid
won't let me use his high-dollar aluminum baseball bat to fish with.
I thought it would make a great wading staff.
Various fly fishing schools turn out people who have no idea what
accepted stream behavior is. Local clubs turn out members on the
stream who can't even cast and have no idea what a trout looks like.
I have had them bring a chub to me and ask if it was a trout. I'm a
strong person and after two tours in Nam I don't generally cry in
public, though my mother makes lace handkerchiefs I have taken to
pinning on my shirt. She says its getting harder to find green lace,
and the tears are hard to wash out.
I have tried to talk my mother into coming out of retirement. I can
remember lessons on Sunday manners when the preacher would visit.
We all had to behave like we were educated whether we were or not.
Everything had to be passed the same way and nothing was sampled
before it was passed. If we were not polite we would hear of it later.
The correct utensil had to be used at the appropriate time. There was
an established way to behave.
Mom, if I buy you a new ruler will you consider an educational tour?
The classes will only be taught on Sunday and if the preacher cringes,
the students are done. No manners . . . no trout. He or she who can't
behave will not be allowed on the stream. Mom, you are only 96 years
old, how can you ignore the problem.
I think I'll call the preacher. Maybe he can talk her into helping become
a part of the solution.
Maybe the solution is just a bigger ruler. Son, would you loan that
high-dollar aluminum bat to grandma? Old Rupe
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