Odd Things You See Fishing....

At one moment you can be completely happy, thinking life can get no better. I was on the shoreline of a renowned trout creek. The sun was out and it was shirtsleeve weather. The day before I had netted a 23 inch fat rainbow trout. It was a beautiful fish. On its side she carried a plethora of red and silver hues.  I was hoping to duplicate yesterday’s experience ten or twenty times. The fish were taking a blue dun fly that was emerging but I was yet to find the fly from my box to mimic the hatch.

A fisherman had just appeared across the creek a mere fifty feet downstream. I wonder if he also felt life could not get any better. He was soon to find out, it could. He was a tall young man, blonde, probably quite handsome, physically fit, decked out in matching tan waders and fly vest. His blonde hair curled out beneath his hat framing a distinct jaw line. He stood confident with a half smile that seemed to never leave his face. On his second cast I saw him set the hook. He soon landed a nice fish larger than the fish I had caught the day before.  Seeing another fisherman catch fish doesn’t discourage me or cause envy. In contrast it lets me know the fish are biting and I know when I send the right combination of fly, depth, and location, I too will soon be catching fish.

Being fishless for the day the contrast could not have been greater. Here I stood almost old, out of shape over weight, bald, shorter than I use to be, never as tall as this young man, and certainly never that kind of handsome. The contrast was soon going to be greater yet. I had just watched him catch his 11th fish. The way he could make music with the fly rod was truly an art form. The fly line glistened in the sun when the line made a perfect arc during his back cast. There was a rhythm between him and the fly. When he started his cast it was effortless. A simple lifting the rod tip and the fly obediently followed its master’s command into a smooth symmetrical arc. The fly entered the current seamless and natural.

My fly could not reach the rift where he was pulling out fish after fish, nor would I have sent my fly there if I could have reached it. There is an etiquette in fly fishing and that would certainly have crossed into the rude uncouth arena.

To get to where he stood took a good mile walk and a bit of effort. She seemed to just appear. Where she had come from I had not observed. But there she was beautiful as he was handsome standing close to the young fisherman. She too was blonde. She wore a white blouse, short blue jean skirt and cowboy boots.  I can say her tanned legs fit the skirt and boots nicely. Muffled talked came from both his and her lips, a giggle from both could be heard coming across the water. After much striving for his attention she stretched onto her tip toes with arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper something into his ear. A sound of delightful pleasure came from his lips and I could not tell if it was from him setting the hook on fish number 12 or in response to her words. Her distracting presence seemed to only be affecting me because he was flawless in the playing and netting of the fish as she hung onto him through the whole process. Upon releasing the fish the man seemed to now have a new mission. He stowed away his gear and with a big smile pasted on his face they walked down the trail. I wondered who was that guy anyway? Who is it that can catch fish like that? Who is it that has a beauty appear and drag him off to who knows where? This was something I had never seen before. Was this like the mermaid who met the sailor lost at sea? I knew it wasn’t a dream because if it was a dream I wouldn’t have been watching. All I know the smile on that young man’s face came from fishing plus something and that something was not hard to imagine.

That night back at camp I reflected on the oddity of the two lovers and watching her seduce the young fisherman. I have always heard that fly fisherman are sexy, after seeing that I am a believer. And, even though I am almost old I am sticking with fly fishing who knows what could happen. Regardless, I smiled knowing somewhere there was a young fly fisherman who maybe had the two best days ever….all in one. Now that makes a great fish story.  

Women Authors Hmmm.....

I am beginning to think that Jodi Picoult is one of those really really smart people that bug me way too much. Normally I have an aversion to reading books written by women.

Hmmmm….strange. I suddenly feel a bit of hatred radiating back at me from those of the opposite sex over this super highway?  Hate or no hate, the truth is the truth, I perfer male authors.  

A few weeks back I broke down out of sheer desperation and read a book written by the famous Jodi Picoult. Actually I read two of her books. Okay! It wasn’t out of desperation that I fell in love with Ms Picoult. It was advice from my wife that started the reading.  I so enjoyed Jodi's writing I could not resist doing a bit of stalking…….of course I Googled her – why wouldn’t I? Yip, in likity split time, I had her email address. Well, you know as well as I do getting a response from a celebrity author like Picoult would probably be close to a miracle. I knew I needed something in the subject line to get her attention. I decide to go with me true guttural feelings toward my new love - “Women Authors - Hmmm…..”

Now, those who read my blog now and then realize, I think I am pretty funny. You also know, I have come to understand that it is only the really smart people who don’t fully appreciate how funny I really am. In fact some have argued that I am the only one laughing. Well hum bug to all you cynics.

My email to Ms. Picoult after much effort finally came to completion, which I peppered with several near hysterical lines that normal people would roll off their chairs laughing at. As you can imagine off I sent my brilliant email. In it I told her she was my new favorite woman author. I felt that was quite an honor to bestow on the lovely lady.

As you can imagine I got a response back from Jodi Picoult in a mere five hours. Now here comes the rub. It seems she did not think I was funny at all or she forgot to mention it (that's probably it). Can you believe it? Well that’s all I am going to say about that. Although I did mention in my email to Ms. Picoult that even though I loved her writing and she was now my new favorite woman author, she was unable to bump my favorite all time author Louis L'Amour from the top spot. I felt I had some pretty good logic for keeping him in that high position. You know he did die a mere two decades ago don’t you? It just seems downright rude to bump a dead guy from his lofty perch; after all he isn’t even here to defend himself. Talk about kicking a guy when he is down – that seems so wrong. What do you think?
Lastly - even if Jodi Picoult is a really really smart person - I give her books a full five stars - Go buy five. "The Perfect Match" and the "Plain Truth" are great!

*********

Today I had one of those bad moments. I was at a business affair and apparently when registering, I inadvertently either picked up or was intentionally handed a woman’s name tag instead of my own. The woman’s name tag I was handed is about four pay grades above mine.  Not that that detail matters all that much, but I do think it is worth mentioning and it could add to some of my remorse.  

Gatherings of this type often make me a bit nervous in the first place, so in my hyper focusing for the exact perfect place to pin the name tag, I really did not even look at whose name I was actually pinning on my shirt. About half way through the day, a lady who later laughed hysterically at me, with tears were running down her cheeks, ask me how I pronounced may last name. She tried pronouncing it but the sound coming across her lips was not even close to how my name should sound. I then discovered my shame and error. What makes this story extra bad. A colleague earlier had held my correct name tag up for me to see in an effort to help me out. Well in Grayquill land where the dots often connect a bit differently then say… the average person, I in my brilliance assumed some one thought I should have two name tags, probably because I am so important. Naturally I ignored my helpful friend. Sitting here confessing; I now recall several consistently odd smiles I was given earlier in the day. One etched deep in my memory is that half smile my boss gave me. I wonder if I will have that privileged chair in her office tomorrow.  Oh well, what can I say, I am Grayquill.

  

A Father's Day

The promise of spring is on the calendar and spring time is certainly a season offering new life, warmer days, and more light. Have I told you lately, I appreciate each and every one of you? Hmmm....how I neglect the important.

I am posting a chapter from my book this morning. I have not been in the mood for writing and would certainly have had a tough time writing anything new that would add a smile or encourage. The past several weeks have been full of darkness; a past evil once again requiring time and effort but reaping few results. I believe in the principle, 'What is beyond my control is within my influence.' This round of influence has had a net zero result. That is the thing about a principle, they are not 100% true but they are generally true. I have not given up on the principle for I have many times seen it work. The good news is, my family and myself are well.
 

I hope you find the following story encouraging and I think it is a great example of what is beyond our control is within our influence. As you read the story, ask yourself who is watching you.

A Fathers Day

It is great to be honored by one’s own children.
Sunday was Father’s Day. My two daughters were out of town, but my son came by to see me. The conversation we had wound around through many subjects and past a few monuments. Along the trail, we came to the monument of his minor fathers, the men who impacted him in his childhood. How grateful I am for these wonderful men.
The many hours my son spent at different friend’s homes resulted in many hours of observing, or at times direct interactions, with these men. Some were good bad examples, but most were good examples. They filled in many holes and blank spots I either was incapable of teaching or just missed. Some examples were reinforcements of lessons I hoped to impart - faithfulness, loyalty, respect of women, trustworthiness, honesty, hard work, and compassion.
He talked about recently attending the celebration of one man’s 35th wedding anniversary and of the toast he gave to the man and his wife for being excellent role models in marriage. My son told me of times he noticed that Joel and Lori had disappeared on a walk, and later, they would return holding hands, smiling and talking.
I can think back to a time a father told me about working alongside his son and my son. They did yard work for many hours, and the man had given my son a compliment for being a good worker. But, I knew the real gift had been the two young boys doing hard work alongside the man, and that day was a step or two closer toward their own manhood. You see, I already knew about the many hours of work because I saw the glow on my son’s young face beaming with pride as he earlier had recounted the affirming words he had been given by the father for his hard work.
Another father was a very good business man and understood investments. Another man treated his wife badly, and my son saw the pain and the shame. Another man was a hard worker but could also play. Most of the men were good examples of living strong moral lives and being men of high character. I am thankful that my son had other men who ingrained into him what real manhood looked like.
He has these images and impressions of what manhood looks like, and now I am so proud of the man he is becoming  has become - a man of high character.
So, to the minor fathers of my son – thank you! You probably did not even know that you were being watched.

In the Outhouse

“What is funny?”

“Oh…poop is funny! No, really poof is almost always funny!”

Well, poop on your shoe is not funny but poop on your brother’s shoe – that is hilarious.

Years ago when I was board at church I could easily entertain myself and get though any boring service by simply picking up the hymnal, start reading song titles and add to the end of each title the simple phrase, ‘In the outhouse.’

“Joy Everlasting” in the outhouse.

 “Peace like a River” in the outhouse. 

“Blessed Assurance” in the outhouse.

“Made Free” in the outhouse.

“Each Day I’ll Do a Golden Deed” in the outhouse.

“Eternal Peace” in the outhouse.

GRAYQUILL STOP!

Just one more….”Trying to get a Glimpse” in the outhouse….”Climbing Higher and Higher” in the outhouse. Sorry, I know that was two but I couldn’t help myself.

As you can see a 10 year old boy and a long boring sermon could be handled easily. I remember giggling and my mother pinching me to be quiet. If she had a clue the depths of depravity her young son had sunk, a much stronger deterrent would be been applied. Now my dad if he knew what I was up to, he would probably have dived right in to my sea of debauchery.

I guess I should apologize for this poopy blog post. It is hard to describe what sewer I pulled this out of but am relieved that it is now over and that it has all worked out.

So, if you are sitting in church and your son or grandson is giggling with his head buried in a song book. Turn a way, ignore him….you don’t really want to go there.

Hmmm....this was way funnier when I wrote it. What happened?
 

Complication, Develop, Resolution

Studying and learning are completely different. A fellow blogger suggested the book, “Writing for Story” by Jon Franklin. Her post thoroughly convinced me to go forth and buy the book ASAP, which I did.

Excited, when the book arrived, I dove right in. NO!! I did not follow the rules…I read the introduction, and then the last chapter. Discouragement hit me almost from the get go. I did not want to hear how hard it is to become a good writer or how long it takes! Hey I don’t have that much time, I am almost old. I want simple, easy, fast!. Do ABC and presto chango, and instantly I can become Steinbeck or Twain. But NOOOOO, all I hear is, you will be dead before you write anything good and writing something great is you being delusional.  Well delusional comes easy for me so at least I am in familiar territory.

Now that you have had that positive introduction, don’t you just want to jump right up and go beg, borrow or steal the book? Sorry Mr. Franklin…hang in there this can only get better from here.

A bit of truth might be good at this point. Nowhere in the book does it say any of those negative thoughts. Those are all just me being me.  In fact chapter three Jon Franklin reprints the Ballad of Old Man Peters. This short story encouraged me quite a lot. The story is true and demonstrated how learning and improving never need stop. It was one of the most inspiring short stories I have ever read.

Side note: I just looked outside it’s snowing….AWEEEEESOME!!! Mr. Franklin would never have told you about the snow. He says leave out anything that does not add to the story.

In a nut shell Mr. Franklin lays out a simple (I didn’t say easy) structure for writing a good story.   He ought to know a thing or two about writing a good story after all he has won the Pulitzer prize twice. And, I am really doing my best to pay attention and learn from this magical person.

Mr. Franklin says every good story has to have three clear attributes. First the Complication, second the Development or the conflict. Lastly, a resolution to the complication is an absolute requirement.  His book is easy reading and the proof should be in the simple fact that I have made it to page 137.

One interesting point Mr. Franklin makes is how many stories do not have a clear resolution to the complication and that causes the story to be weak. He says, find the resolution first and work backwards, there you will find the complication, and in between lies a great story.

Even though I am only half way through reading Writing for Story, I am convinced this was the best $9.00 I have spent in the past many weeks.  Well, those two fly rods I bought might beat it out but it’s hard to top a new fly rod. 

Now in the beginning of this post, I wrote studying is not learning. The proof of that might be in how this post did not follow Mr. Franklins structure….at least completely, but then I have not finished reading his book yet. With that in mind let’s all have hope Mr. Franklin’s instruction can help Grayquill’s writing improve. If any of you are curious, I did try to follow his structure in writing this post and maybe I did a bit. I am sure several of you will set me straight.

BTW: GQ has left his delusional state and now knows he can get better even though he’s almost old - he is beginning to learn structure…Yahoo!

Complication: GQ is delusional
Development:
1.       Age makes learning harder
2.       GQ admits being lazy
3.       GQ fears he can’t learn
4.       The book helps GQ change his thinking
5.       GQ thinks his writing can get better
Resolution: GQ applies Structure

He Came Soft as a Whisper

Good morning Lord. This past week has been full of pressures and it has been hard to feel you at all.  If you are in it – I missed it. So here I sit this morning. The lights of the Christmas tree shining bright speaking of holiday, rejoicing and happiness; but I am weary.

Is this how it has always been? Is this what you expected and wanted? I know the questions I asked are stupid. But, what has happened? To shift my thoughts toward you I find it hard and uncomfortable, even scary. To even talk to you is uncomfortable and I feel afraid to come up close. Is it because of my smallness next to your vastness or your infiniteness and my finiteness? Or my unavoidable death and your forever? Or is it you being all powerful and I being fragile and weak? There is also your complete and unlimited knowledge and then my lack of understanding and the questions that haunt me. And of course, there is always your holiness lighting up my sinfulness and I want to hide.

I would have expected you to come in thunder or lightening or maybe even riding an asteroid, for after all you are God, the all powerful one. But no, you came softly in less than a whisper, as a baby, small, helpless, weak, fragile, in an obscure stable of all places.  Did you come in this manner so I would not be frightened and not run and hide? I wonder…..

I am trying to not hide, and I am thankful for the story, so sweet and I begin to inch close to you. But to read on, later the story turns sad, horrible, and I want to hide again. I read of your grief, your suffering, the tears you shed, the loneliness you felt, the rejection by those close to you, and then of course comes the real horror, a cross.

 If that was the end, the story would have no meaning. But, then the story changes and lifts the sadness and the power of death is torn down by your resurrection. If I continue to hide and miss the story, it does not change its power does it? If I hide and ignore the story, it does not change the fact you came.  And that whisper if I am not quiet or careful I will miss it and the story will have no effect.

Now that the rush is over, now that the presents have been place under the tree, help me be quiet, help me not miss hearing your whisper….

Grayquill going VEGAN?

The windshield wipers beat steady. The HOV lane was open, and we took right to it, staying at speed limit. The progress was fantastic for driving on a rainy Seattle night at rush hour.  Something new was in store for Grayquill. It was to be Vegan Pizza at Pizza PI.

On the outset vegan pizza sounded horrible to me but what do you do when your nephew and his bride to be buy a vegan pizza joint? You support it and them, that's what you do!

They say location is everything and the location for this business seemed perfect. It is located on University Way NE, five blocks north of the University of Washington where all those weird liberal granola young people congregated.  What would they love more than vegan pizza? I can’t think of a thing.

I dropped mom and dad off at the door and rolled through the rain looking for a parking spot. With the car parked in a back in only spot, I took the two block walk up University Avenue. I had my hat so it was all good.

Upon entering the restaurant I spotted them at the far end right across from the cash register. A fifty eight year old accompanied by two eighty eight year olds must have been quite a site in such an establishment. I would say, maybe we looked odd and out of place, but then I took a look around; have you seen the way young people dress these days? Upon perusing the crowd I felt quite normal. As for the patrons, there was certainly more than one odd duck in the room. Young people these days do not know how to dress – it is just plain odd. My own nephew wore pants that reminded me of Huck Finn with his jeans torn raggedly off at mid calf.  I checked to see if he was wearing leather shoes. He wasn’t, he was being consistent to his vegan life choice. I love a man of principle! My kids have upon occasion called me both quirky and goofy; I can only imagine what words the children of this group will use to describe their parents some day.  

The menus were passed out and it wasn’t long before we had a 100% vegan pizza pie right there on our table, freshly cooked in a 615 degree oven. I could have the degrees off a bit – I only half listen sometimes. Upon taking my first bite with some fear and trepidation, my taste buds started dancing. THIS WAS GOOD! I was shocked! The medium pizza fed the three of us and I even had two pieces to take home. Yahoo!

Do you remember being a little grubber and not liking anything if a grown up told you it was good for you? I can remember a couple of those moments. Well I had a childhood flash back when it was suggested that desert be Vegan Pumpkin Pie. That just seemed like an oxymoron. I didn’t want to be rude so I accepted the large piece of pie with a big forced smile. A friend once said, “if you have to swallow a frog, don’t look at it too long.” I decided to take that advice right off. Hmmm…. This was pretty good, the crust was excellent! I would like another piece please…oh, ooops, it wasn’t offered.

With our welcome running into the overdue limit and with paying patrons standing waiting for a table we called it an evening. First of course we had to argue about the bill – them wanting to give us free food and us wanting to pay. We took our leave and I for one will be going back to the Pizza PI. If you are ever in Seattle I suggest you plan on some Vegan Pizza and have a wonderful moment to watch today’s young people. It will all be good I promise.

I give Pizza Pi two thumbs up and the way young people dress two thumbs down.