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On the River
by Emily Dolan
If I need the lesson, I _get_ it. Sometimes I wish I weren't so F*cing blessed, then
I just try to sit still and say thanks...
I took my dad fishing today. I like to float down the San Marcos river in an
innertube, grinning at baffled splashers and beer drinkers and pulling the occasional pretty perch out of the water with my
flyrod. After dragging an amused Chuck G and totally delighted and desert-worn Wiley down on this trip and making it as often as I could get away with it myself, I
finally got my dad to go. I insisted!
We had a great relaxing time. We caught enough fish to know that we were fishing and not just making a mess. We didn't keep any, two fat perch
aren't enough for a meal so I let them go.
People float down in all kinds of ways, some fighting the current, some happily talking and circling or splashing, some staring into the water,
some just dreaming, some with RADIOS or a joint, some with coolers full of beer...
I remarked about the radio to my dad who was happily mushing around in some lilypads chasing fish, and he said that some people couldn't take the
river. That it was too orderly, things rotted when they were supposed to.
I was awed by that statement. And I thought of all the silences I have fought..
that I now try to find.
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