Of Fish and Bones

Early October of this year featured a five-day trip to Rock Creek, about 25 miles north of Bishop on 395. This celebrated a Riter centennial: Dad first traveled up here on a washboard dirt road in 1925, and he got me hooked on Sierra fishing, camping, and Fords. On the second day, my sis now living in Kentucky called, and the topic of trout came up. She declared she didn’t care for them, too many bones. Being trained in debate, and knowing the tastiness of trout, I used an old line, “Life is like eating fish: pick out and discard the bones, and enjoy the meat.”

She didn’t buy that, but…

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A River, a Family, a Faith

The pic comes from the movie A River Runs Through It, taken from Norman Maclean’s book, recounting the mostly true lives of a Presbyterian pastor in Missoula MT in the early 1900s and his two sons. Notice the beautiful writing in these early excerpts, but more so, notice how Maclean weaves his faith into all he does, including fly fishing.

“In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing…

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Dawn

Last month I traveled to Tom’s Place in the Sierra to celebrate the Centennial of Riters visiting Rock Creek. Back in 1925, Dad traveled up the washboard dirt road of 395, and 100 years later I drove my F150 the 300 miles up the paved highway. The fishing, while very good, didn’t match earlier years, but memories and retracing his steps again brought joy to my soul. Sleeping in the Ford’s bed found me tossing and turning, and looking out the window prompted…

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Oh God!

Growing up in church and Sunday School, I often heard “don’t take God’s name in vain,” which typically meant to not use God in swearing. So good Christians were careful, using “acceptable substitutions,” like “Gosh darn.” Pretty weak, but safe. Later, I learned that we missed it. Cursing fits within the command, but it goes deeper. We should not use God casually, without being aware of the respect and admiration and glory and transcendence that is innately in God. For instance, ever use the phrase “God told me…” or “God led me…,” without being 100% sure God was speaking instead of indigestion or your desires? That could be taking God’s name in vain, if he didn’t say what you thought. That kind of…

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Our Best Laid Plans

Spring and summer had been full of activities. A total knee replacement April 1, recovery in May. June brought a week at a timeshare in San Clemente. A bike trip with Rich in mid-July, with teaching at a writing conference at the end of that month. August had a lot of physical therapy and other appointments, then September featured a treasured trip to Idaho to see our grandkids. That just left early October for a fishing and camping trip to my beloved Rock Creek in the Sierras.

But I had some concerns. My new knee…

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My Soul Also Rises

Three of our Gray Hogs group left Redding and traveled up I-5, intended to meet up with our fourth member, Jerry, near Salem, Oregon. The Central Valley heat had already risen, and the mountains leading to Mt. Shasta brought a welcome coolness to the air. As we reached the Crags and saw Shasta’s glory revealed in the distance, not only these words occurred to me, but I found my soul changing…

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Ask Clearly

A few weeks back, I flushed our toilet and turned away, only to hear someone whistling at me. Sheila was nowhere in sight, no one else was in the house, and I sure didn’t whistle at myself. Not too loud, and I kind of like receiving whistles, then Sheila mentioned it. Then came some YouTube research on how to fix it, which worked! No whistle. I kind of missed it, but within a few days it returned, got louder, and Sheila again mentioned it.

On our next errands trek, I dropped her off at her nails salon and headed to Home Depot. In the toilet section, a young mother with a four-year-old boy in the cart (must have been a sale on boys that week) asked me…

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An Ephemeral Life

Mike Scott, a friend from high school daze, took this pic of a New Mexico sunrise, which I came to love. Sunrises and sunsets blend beauty and brevity so well. Their glory changes almost by the second—I’ve often called Sheila to see one, and in the 20 seconds before she gets there it’s changed, or gone.

That’s life—as slow as it seems to go looking ahead…

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