fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)


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the almost-free lunch

One day, I may become one of those gray-haired (almost there) and stylishly-dressed fly fisherman you see casting wonderful loops on the banks of your local river. Until then, I’ll settle for fostering those new to the sport.

One late September evening my assistance was requested at the club’s novice fly fishing reels.jpgclass. Not quite the old hand at this fly fishing stuff and definitely not a master caster, I was to run the “hooking and landing” station during casting lessons. In exchange I would be rewarded with a sandwich lunch.

So, last Saturday I headed to Walnut Creek and in short order was deemed “The Hooking and Landing Instructor.” My task was simple. Using a remote-controlled truck, to which fly line was attached, I was to give our prospective fly fishers a taste of landing a fish. To understand that landing a fish on a fly rod is different, one has to appreciate that a fly reel is mainly there to (1) hold your line and (2) provide a bit of drag when a fish runs. To play and land a fish one has to strip line — that is pull it with your hand and let it pile up in front of you (and hopefully not trip on it).

Sure, I landed an obnoxious number of fish so far this season — 150+ brook, rainbow and brown trout — but my experience is limited to a handful of rives and streams and a single lake. So it was odd to have these class attendees look upon me a modicum respect even though my fly fishing days began barely six months ago.

But helping out with this class taught me how much I’ve learnt this far, and how much I have to learn. There is such a thing as an almost-free lunch.


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becoming part of (local) history

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It was one of the easiest drives over the Carquinez Strait; this morning we were part of a 300-car “First Drive” motorcade on the new north-bound span of the Benicia-Martinez Bridge. Though the morning greeted us with gray overcast, but the sun was shining by the time we were waved by CHP and local police officers through the streets of Martinez, winding through the outskirts of town and past oil refiners. Vehicles ranging from CHP motorcycle escorts (as well as a two white CHP Camaros) to a few vintage cars — some with rumble seats — christened the new George Miller Jr. Bridge. (The late George Miller Jr. served in the California State Assembly from 1947 to 1948, and in the state Senate from 1949 to 1969). And we were part of it. Pretty cool. Something to tell the grandkids…

Pictures here: Benicia Bridge Photo Album
Read More: First cars drive over new Benicia Bridge
See More: New Benicia – Martinez Bridge Now Opened (CBS5.com)


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the flying fish confession

This summer I was fishing Rock Creek, in California’s Eastern Sierra Nevada mountains.  I came to this place during five days of camping and fishing, intent upon bringing newfound fly fishing skills to bear upon its finned population.  Since those days I have been haunted by an undisclosed embarrassment.

Despite my trepidation of venturing into these waters without any certainty of christening my fly rod with its first trout, rather frequently and surprisingly I would hook a small wild brook trout.  I can’t help but think that some of these trout discussed before my arrival the idea of obliging this budding fly fisher by hooking themselves.  Some would just as frequently educate me on how fast a wily fish might escape a single barbless hook.  Perhaps these fish apparently weren’t in on the aforementioned discussion.

My strikes were incredibly varied.  Even a poor cast would draw a brookie into a mad rush under the water for my midge.  Another would suck my dry fly from the surface.  Yet another would timidly tap either fly without commitment.

A good many of these members of the species Salvelinus fontinalis charged upstream to investigate one or maybe both of my flies.  But they would stop short of striking.  Perhaps an equal number of brook trout would strike when I was not ready, or distracted, or lulled into the belief they had stopped biting.

Midway through my evening, while making a dry cast, simple laziness allowed my flies to briefly rest in the water’s surface tension.  In the blink of an eye I began a backcast.  As my line lifted from the water, I suddenly felt unusual tension in my pole and in a lazy arc a very small brook trout flew through the air.  I swear his eyes were wide as he splashed down a few feet behind me.  He disappeared in a swirl of irritation. 

I fished on, without drama, catching and releasing a dozen more brook trout.  I didn’t take a fish worth mentioning the rest of the day.

Rather than lament that I can’t brag about the size of my first trout on a fly, I’m content to chuckle — with some embarrassment — at my flying fish.


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gushings from my mind

[Please forgive another free flow of thought prompted by life events.]

The recent death of Benjamin Libet, a neurophysiologist whose pioneering studies of the human brain included an exploration of the nature of free will pushed my mind into overdrive with memories of the age-old debate that extends into academia, philosophy and ethics, theology, metaphysics, and psychology.

Some of Dr. Libet’s experiments involved using electrodes to measure the response times of the brain, and he found, in one case, that when a volunteer was instructed to move a finger, the brain unconsciously initiated the movement even before the volunteer was aware that the finger had begun moving. This might be construed as an indication that “free will” might not exist in humans. However, Dr. Libet’s experiments showed that if his subjects were told not to move a finger, or to stop moving it, the conscious mind will could maintain complete control. As he described it, the conscious mind “…could veto it and block performance of the act.”

The simple idea of retribution, in this world or an afterlife, belies the idea of predestination, or at least rigid predestination, and supports the concept of free will. The thought of retribution is deeply rooted in all religions of which I have knowledge and almost always coexists with teachings that God holds absolute rule over human will through His omnipotence and omniscience. This gives rise to the common idea that “We can’t know God’s plan.”

But why can’t we know God’s plan? Perhaps it is better to ask “How is it that we can’t comprehend an infinite being’s plan?”

In this world we live a linear life. We are born, we live, we die. Within the linearity of our understanding of the universe lies the root of our freedom. We are presented with conditions. Within those conditions exists choices. In free will we are left to make those choices, seemingly on our own. Each choice leads to and defines the conditions of the next.

Assume an omniscient being can know all at once. In such a condition, God would exist outside of time. The future and past alike are simple knowledge. Not memories or foreknowledge; they simply are.

Accepting the idea that God knows all invariably leads to questioning the need for God’s intercession or even the concept of grace (defined as a supernatural help of God for salutary acts). Why would intercession or grace be needed? I would suggest that with infinite knowledge comes the knowledge of what truly requires intercession, returning us to the idea that “We can’t know God’s plan.”

Maybe we humans are simply predestined to choose based on the conditions set upon us.


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spilling my thoughts on parenting

parent (pâr’ənt): 1. n. In the words of journalist Suzanne Gordon, “the identity that can never be shed.”

parenting (pâr’ən-tĭng): 1. n. The act of guiding a growing human being through a succession of increasingly complicated issues for at least 18 years.

requirements of parenting (not in any particular order):

  • Resolve
  • Flexibility
  • Fortitude (Of mind, soul and body.)
  • Patience
  • Wisdom (Often beyond your years.)
  • Sacrifice
  • Bravery
  • Love
  • Humor (Hopefully in abundance.)

beyond shelter, nourishment and education
Hindsight being 20/20, I would say good parenting requires much more than teaching the basic requirements. Sure, the basic expectations start with learning to “go potty” and to cloth and feed one’s self. Hopefully this learning progresses to reading, writing, and independent thinking. Later, the lessons of the world might wander into the picture, including respecting others, nurturing relationships, and dealing with and overcoming hostility, disappointment, anger and sadness. All this time we have to understand that during this learning a child may be bruised — physically, mentally and emotionally — along the way. All we can do is tend to those injuries as best we can.

During this process the rewards for a parent are sometimes a series of extraordinary challenges: worrying about a child’s safety and well-being; balancing our own frustration and sometimes anger with a child’s often erratic needs; supporting and giving despite no “please” or “thank you.” Then, after all this, we must let go.

letting go
We can’t let go. I’ve decided that it is simply impossible. The parent-child relationship will always exist. However, we can shift the responsibility for an adult child’s life from ourselves to them. The adult child may or may not accept this transference. If they don’t, we are left to acknowledge that the acceptance of this responsibility may sit in limbo for days, weeks, months, years or the rest of an adult child’s life. This requires the learning of a new skill: resisting the temptation to reclaim the responsibility for an adult child’s life.

And so, with an adult child, I see it coming full circle. Once again, we may be asked to tend to some bruising along the way. But the hope is that the subtle difference, as in all adult-to-adult relationships, will be in the asking.


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i’m someone now

My PassportI’m someone now, darn it, and I can leave the county. Better yet, I can come back.

Got my passport this week with the requisite identification numbers and the RFID and the photo that makes me look like a thug. Took a few days before I was flashing it around the house like police offier’s badge. Can’t knock the feds too much…it took less time to get here than I was told to expect and my name was spelled correctly. 

Now, time for some passport humor:

     An elderly gentleman of 83 arrived in Paris by plane. At the French customs desk, the man took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry-on bag.
     “You have been to France before, monsieur?” the customs officer asked sarcastically.
     The elderly gentleman admitted he had been to France previously.
     “Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.”
     The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn’t have to show it.”
     “Impossible. Americans always have to show passports on arrival in France !”
     The American senior gave the Frenchman a long, hard look.
     Then he quietly explained “Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in June of 1944 to help liberate this country, I was a little busy. Besides, I couldn’t FIND any Frenchmen to show it to.”


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Sean in the paper

They may have misspelled the last name, but you can tell by the pictures who it is…

Sean & Justin

Sean & Justin


Football in June
Local players take field for All-Star game’s first practice
By Dan Nied/Vallejo Times-Herald sports writer
June 27, 2007

     Tuesday afternoon, Richard Eaton scanned the roster, then looked over to the players.
  “The first day, you never know who is going to show up,” Eaton said.
     It didn’t help that Eaton, normally the coach of North Hills High, currently serving as the head coach of the West team in the East-West Charity All-Star Football Classic couldn’t recognize most of his players.
     But Eaton and his team made due with what they had Tuesday, which was the best 2006 senior football players from the West region in the first day of a three-week practice session for the 35th annual game which will take place July 14 at Napa Memorial Stadium.
     There were only a few no shows at Morton Field on Mare Island, and the team went through myriad drills in the two-hour session.
“I think the primary objective is to come in and have fun,” Eaton said. “This is just an honor and a privilege to come in and coach all these kids. The caliber of kid is what you dream of as a high school coach.”
     The West roster is mostly made up of players from the Vallejo-Benicia area. That includes North Coast Section Class A title winners St. Patrick-St. Vincent.
Before practice, now former Bruins quarterback Max Schulz stretched in his St. Pat’s practice gear.
     “I am excited,” he said. “This is going to help me get ready for college.”
     In August, Schulz will begin his career at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. This serves as his final tune-up.
     While Schulz was stretching in the St. Pat’s circle, players gathered in the field’s dugouts and introduced themselves. Many players were rivals, however they were now on the same team.
     “I know we are going to become closer friends,” said former Vallejo High receiver and Diablo Valley College recruit Mychael Wallace.  “There’s a lot of guys here I don’t know, I’ve never seen before without a helmet on. So just make new friends and maybe we’ll see each other in college.”
     While most of the players got acquainted, a pair of former Benicia High linebackers stood about 40 feet away, waiting to practice.
     Sean Kanoske [Konoske] and Justin Ponder took a no-nonsense approach into practice. The pair will play at Solano College next season after narrowly missing out on a Sac-Joaquin Section playoff berth as seniors in 2006.

(Click here to read the full article.)


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the exercise of fishing

From DietDetective.com:

Alternative Activities That Burn Calories
by Charles Stuart Platkin

Golf (using a power cart) vs. Fishing (in a stream)

I know something that even sounds like it might be a critique of the beloved game of golf is risky, but I’ll take my chances. I was chatting with an old friend who had taken up golf to try to get into shape. He figured he could walk, enjoy the weather, socialize and lose weight. Boy, was he wrong.

After a few years of golfing, he ended up gaining weight. Why? Well, for a few reasons. First of all, the course he plays doesn’t allow walking because it slows down the game. Second, all that clubhouse socializing, which included lots of drinking and eating, packed on more pounds instead of removing them. Plus, he had stopped his other forms of exercise when he took up golf. He would have been better off fishing. Golfing with a cart burns 245 calories an hour (about 1/2 cup Baskin Robbins Cherries Jubilee Ice Cream), whereas fly-fishing in a stream (including walking in the water wearing waders) burns as much as 420 calories (one slice of Papa John’s Pan Crust The Meats). However, if you ditch the cart (and the clubhouse snacks) you’d be looking at a wonderful exercise burning 315 calories per hour (a Wendy’s Jr. Cheeseburger). Also, keep in mind that miniature golf and hitting balls at a driving range burn about 210 calories in an hour (one Kellogg’s Pop-Tart Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon).

(Click here to read the full article.)


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joseph & his dreamcoat: a debut

Karen and I headed off to Egypt this afternoon for Adam’s performance as the lead in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” as put on by St. Dominic’s Catholic School’s sixth, seventh and eight grades. 

It was a fun show! All of the kids seemed to put their “all” into it, with a great Elvis impersonation by the young man portraying Pharaoh. Adam did a great job at Joseph, and it was particularly fun to watch his reaction to the affections of Mrs. Potiphar.  (I loved the minimalist set design, which put the focus on the actors.)

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