That knife above isn’t much to look at. A bone handle yellowed from age and contact with a fisherman’s hand. A small blade, with much of its essence sacrificed from sharpening. But each time I open the tackle box and see dad’s old knife, I think of him. How he transmitted a love of stream fishing. How he showed me the courage a man should have. How he demonstrated sacrificing for others. How he gave me that knife when emphysema robbed him of the ability to journey to his beloved Sierra Nevada Mountains. Each look keeps those memories fresh, makes me appreciate him more, and restores...
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image by chrishefner.com
Coexist?
Quite a popular bumper sticker lately, particularly in our relativistic age which encompasses many paths to God. Some take it to mean coexist peacefully, disagree without killing one another. I can support that. But if it means, as one image proclaims, “God is too big to fit into one place,” equating all belief systems, then I take issue.
Easter is the reason.
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Setting Your Spirit
The church building required refurbishing. Multiple decades had aged it, and minimal remodeling spoke of bygone eras. Even worse, the entrance was on the opposite side of the parking lot, well hidden to first time visitors. Many people drove in, saw no entrance, and drove right out. So we embarked on a major project to cut into a retaining wall to install steps, remove vegetation, craft a new entrance by the parking, and paint the entire interior. One of our leaders, an Air Force officer, led the painting crew, and I struggled ...
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Mark Twain cabin by Wikimedia.com
Last Legs
Mick and I left the rest of the riders in Sisters OR and headed home. Mt. Shasta provided a motel room, then we rode together the next morning until he split off to Susanville, to return the bike he borrowed from his son-in-law. I headed to Placerville as the starting point to cruise along Hwy 49, through the Gold Rush towns scattered along the Sierra foothills. Windy roads, finding Mark Twain’s cabin (above in the pic), and exploring the funky towns made it a long day until I found ...
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The Curse of Optimism
Long ago, I determined to look on the bright side of life. Earlier focusing on the dark side and possible problems and what others thought of me led to contemplations of suicide. My own. To balance my natural negative take...
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Sometimes You Win, Sometimes...
Some locals claim the upper Sacramento River, right under the I-5 bridge in Dunsmuir, may yield the best trout fishing in California. Pines creep right down to the water’s edge of the gorgeous stream, yet leave enough space to cast and still not get hung up. Too often, anyway!
I’m not sure about the quality of fishing, but I did come to doubt the fisherman’s rationale, “The worst day fishing beats the best day working.”
I’d caught one and lost another when...
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Friendly Fire
Rich began riding bikes a few years before me, on a Honda 350. I soon bought a similar one, then Rich moved up to a larger ride, the Harley Super Glide. Yeah, a few decades back. We’d rag on each other’s bikes—Rich defending Harleys, me defending Hondas. OK, once his wife thought we were ready to break out the fists, but it was a friendly rivalry. Let’s just call it spirited, OK? Much like the comparison in the pic above of a Harley and a Honda.
So when he T-boned me in Blythe, CA, it was accidental, right?
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Trout as Spiritual Teachers
Trout, much like the cutthroat in the pic above (by usgs.gov), have taught me much about the finer aspects of the spiritual life. Honest. Fishing for the hatchery-raised idiots in California’s roadside streams, Power Bait works well with these who don’t recognize genuine trout food. Scientific research has blended the scent trout love with a consistency that will stick on a hook, yet with no nutritive value. But I most love hiking into the backcountry to find ...
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