Catch of a Lifetime

Writing is hard enough sometimes, and then you read something like this, and it gets damned near impossible.

You see, when an artisan like Val Prieto hangs a new fresco of words upon in the gallery which is Babalu Blog, I look at my own keyboard, and my fingers feel as clumsy wooden dowels attached to the pine blocks of my hands.

One cannot read of Val's family and finish the story unchanged. 

Of course, while my wife and I gave them the grand tour to the house and property, all I wanted to do was show my Godfather the canal. My brand new, very own, private fishing hole. The one that still beckoned from behind the brush.

"Tio," I said pointing out towards the canal. "Lo mejor es que tengo donde pescar." The best thing is I have a place to fish. "I was just cutting my way through the brush to get to the canal."

No sooner had I said that than Padrino took off his nice travel-back-home-via-airplane shirt, grabbed the machete that I'd stuck into the ground and he attacked the dense shrubbery hiding the canal. My old man followed suit.

So there we were, the three of us - my Godfather, my father and me - working in unison for hours, chopping and cutting, dragging and dropping, pulling and yanking away at the Florida Holly brush that covered my private fishing hole in my brand new home.

And when we'd cut and removed just enough of the shrubbery away for us to walk straight up to the canal's edge, my Godfather went to the car and came back with one of his fishing rods. He asked for a piece of bread which I quickly ran to the kitchen to get but we had none. All we had was crusts from yesterday's pizza. I went back to the canal with a piece of pizza crust, Padrino took it from my hand, cut a little piece off and he hooked it on. He dropped it into the water and not a minute later had caught a fish.

The man that had taught me to fish with the patience of a fisherman had just caught the first fish from my own private fishing hole. Mi Padrino me bautizo la pesca.

The fish on the end of the line wasn't the prize catch.

Now, go read the whole of Val's tale, and learn a bit because of  the Catch of a Lifetime. 

And I'll sit here and try to whittle my fingers back down into typing order again.

Comments

[Bob Baird]

Don't whittle too much friend. Your prose is just fine as it is. Don't be trapped by other people's good examples... you've struck gold more than once.

Bob

[Val Prieto]

Thank you, Jim. Such kind words from a writer of your caliber truly honor me.