Brian Hobbins '01, '03M.Ed. | October 19, 2018
As a fisherman, there comes a time in your life when you will go fishing without the one who taught you how to fish. A time when you can never fish with him again.
If you are lucky, you will go with your brother — who actually learned to fish properly — who can help you remember how to fish passably for yourself.
There will be a drive of some distance to a favorite place to fish with the one who taught you how to fish. You will reminisce about prior drives to this place — this river, lake, bay or shore. You will drive by the place where you always stopped to eat, and you will remember — almost taste — the crisp bacon, the patty melt, the rhubarb pie, the root beer float, the things you always ate together. You will stop to refill at the gas station with the best prices. You will buy a day-pass fishing license at the best place to buy tackle. Through the low cloud of cigarette smoke, you will marvel that the proprietor lives on in apparent health, while the one who taught you how to fish goes fishing no more.
You will recall prior conversations on that drive: what to look for in a good car, what to study when you go to college, how to dress properly for a specific occasion, why it is important to be more respectful of your mother, who to vote for in the upcoming election, what it is like to be married, when you know you can retire, what your grandparents were like as parents, why work is important and gives life meaning, how to keep perspective, how to keep hope.
Maybe some or none of these things will happen. In any case, you will be anxious. This will happen as you get closer. Your brother will stop talking to you so much and you will stop talking so much to him.
You will start talking to yourself.
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