My husband, Bryan, is the president of the Backcountry Fly Fishing Association of Brevard. He writes a “President’s Message” for their monthly newsletter, The Backcast. Below is this month’s message. I simply had to share it with you.
President’s Message (by Bryan Hatfield)
Last week, my wife and I booked a fishing trip to Pine Point Lodge, a remote fishing resort on the Minnesota/Canadian border. No roads, no cell phones, no emails to return– just a week of Smallmouth Bass on a popper, and if I’m lucky a tango with a 40” Pike or even a 50” Muskie. July can’t come soon enough!
Yesterday, my youngest daughter Kathryn called; she’s a Writing, Editing, and Media major at Florida State University.
“Dad, I’ve decided to take the summer semester off, so I’ll be home for the months of June and July,” she said.
“Perfect,” I responded, “you can join your mother and me in Minnesota! I’ll get your rods ready.”
Her response: crickets– and I’m not talking bait; her silence said she wasn’t interested, but her good manners said, “Okay, Dad, thanks.”
An hour ago, I received this email from Kathryn:
I came across this poem about a year ago. Just wanted to share.
A. E. Stallings
The two of them stood in the middle water,
The current slipping away, quick and cold,
The sun slow at his zenith, sweating gold,
Once, in some sullen summer of father and daughter. Maybe he regretted he had brought her—
She’d rather have been elsewhere, her look told— Perhaps a year ago, but now too old.
Still, she remembered lessons he had taught her: To cast towards shadows, where the sunlight fails And fishes shelter in the undergrowth.
And when the unseen strikes, how all else pales Beside the bright-dark struggle, the rainbow wroth, Life and death weighed in the shining scales,
The invisible line pulled taut that links them both.
Source: Poetry (July 1998)