Valued Upbringing

New Supplies

The morning air was fresh as I sat on the porch chair overlooking the lake. I took a sip of coffee from either my second or third cup. A fresh pot was brewing. This is my studio for the week. Taking another sip, I noticed the package with three paintbrushes that had never left the package. Upon reading the store sticker, I remembered the day that I bought them. It was a rainy February afternoon in 2001. Earlier in the morning, I opened a brand new tube of paint. I’d purchased it in 1988. I dipped the tip of the new brush into the line of neutral gray before mixing it with cerulean blue and applying it to my painting.

Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, I thought about my morning discoveries. None of them really came as a surprise. I’ve always been respectful, protective, and frugal with my belongings. I’m sure that my Daddy had something to do with that. He was a tinkerer. Not for the hobby of it, but as a means to keep things working. We were a working-class family, which doesn’t mean we didn’t have nice things. We didn’t have an abundance of them. What we had, we took care of because disposable was not in our vocabulary. If I broke it or lost it, then I was simply without. I respect my upbringing.

Lakefront Studio

Locking myself away for this inspired retreat has been engaging. Days are backed up to days of my thoughts and creativity. Soul searching seems far too cliché, yet it defines the time away as good as anything that comes to mind. Though it took a few days for me to settle in, my temporary studio overlooking the lake has become quite an inspiring space.

Dipping the brush back into the mixed paint, I added another stroke. The figure in the painting is a life vibrant man preparing to pitch a horseshoe. He’s respectful, protective, and frugal with his game. I’d be willing to bet that points were added to his team’s score after his toss. Daddy always did.

Best Friend's Promise

Best Friends

It’s been nearly one year to the day from that hot and humid Saturday afternoon when I met one of the best friends I’ve ever known. The day was probably as much a surprise to him as it was to me. Then again, perhaps none of that really ever crossed his mind. He simply followed his natural instinct to believe and to trust.

Although our introduction was unexpected, we bonded from the start. To add to my surprise and maybe his, in just four months, I would adopt him along with all of his unique little quirks, his bright-eyed spirited gazes, and his unspoiled life-loving character. Never once have I second-guessed my decision.

Laughing at the World

Zero and I spent last week vacationing along the Chesapeake, where the bay meets the Atlantic. The timing couldn't have been better. I needed to clear my calendar by disconnecting from deadlines, tasks, PowerPoint presentations, and the consumption of media, politics, worldly, and backyard crises. Our time away was beyond healthy. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long, long time. And while I still believe I did nothing wrong, I was scolded by my 15 lb. friend on Tuesday evening after leaving him home alone for two hours while I shopped at a local record store. How dare me? Fortunately, all ills were forgiven and any grudges resolved with a single peanut butter dog biscuit and a swim in the ocean. The world was once again at peace.

Puppy Dreams

Our time away was every bit of that. Away. We both danced together to an unending queue of great music, hiked miles and miles of scenic trails, caught afternoon naps in the warmth of sand and sunshine, and drove with the windows down along Shore Drive. In the odd event that we happened to forget, each day reminded us of our escape with a constant gentle breeze whisked in from the ocean.

Of all the things that thrill me the most about our friendship, is that it never once has included beeping, buzzing, or dinging notices of a new voicemail, email, or text message. We still, however, remain completely connected each day.

Focus

To this day, I'm still not totally convinced that I'm solely the one responsible for our shared promise. Part of me wants to believe that Zero stepped up and adopted me on that same day. Either way, it was a win for us both. Our relationship is, oddly enough, a mirrored reflection of that week we spent at the bay. It's always honest, loving, face-to-face, unplugged, and never requires a status update.

If he ever does need to leave one, I’m sure it will always read the same. Good boy.

Casting a Line. Catching a Day.

Nibble Gets a Bite

My vacation week was coming to a close when Zero and I headed out for our final morning hike along the bay. We approached the private 20 yards of sandy beach along our route to see the silhouette of a man standing on the bank. We stopped for a chat after a welcoming "Good Mornin'” rang out from the beach. 
The middle-aged man with the salt and pepper beard stood next to a tall white bucket as he cast his line halfway across the creek. After walking down to the beach, I introduced Zero and myself. “I’m Herbert”, the stranger said as he held his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you”. We spent the next couple of minutes chatting about just how beautiful the morning was. He told me that “he'd lived here all his life ‘cept for the four years I served in the United States Marine Corps. I comes here every day to fish. I love this place." It was then that I remembered seeing his bucket and pole from a hike earlier in the week.

I glanced into his bucket. It was filled about a third of the way with croaker from his morning catch. We talked a little more before the nibble on the end of his line became a bite. Herbert reeled in another. Handling the dancing catch to unhook it, he shared with me that there was very little movement on the water because the tide was in. He then casts his line again. When the weight hit the water just about halfway across again, there was a distinct plop sound. He told me the deepest area was just about where he tossed his line. "How deep is it?” I asked. "Ohhhh, it's real deep out there,” he said. "I'm none too sure how deep it is in the middle, but if you walk just a few steps off the bank here, it falls off real quick… way over your head."

Herbert

As we stood there talking, I remembered how my father used to love to fish and how he would prepare his fresh catch with a clean and precise fillet knife. I asked Herbert if he filleted his fish. “Oh no,” he replied. “I just cuts 'em down the back and pan fry 'em till they’re lightly brown. That's all I do." Hoping to learn a few of his secrets, I asked if he used cornmeal with an egg batter. He was quick to answer. "Just a little cornmeal... and some salt, and pepper", Herbert replied. “That’s all.”

As we stood on the bank beside him, I asked Herbert if he'd mind if I took his picture. "No, sir", he said with a grin, "I don't mind at all". While focusing the camera, Herbert reminded me again that the tide was in. "It'll be better fishin' after 4 o'clock or so. But I'm hopin' I'll be havin' a fish fry by then." We both laughed, but I'm willing to bet he did exactly as he was hoping for.

Not wanting to take too much of his time, I thanked him and left him to his fishing as we headed back up the bank to the trail. Herbert replied with a wave, a thank you, and to my pup and me, wishing us a good day. "Nice pup", he said as he tossed his freshly baited hook with squid to his sweet spot in the middle of the creek again.

Nice Pup

Reaching our path, Zero and I picked up our pace along the sun-sparkled trail through the woods. I thought about just how much I enjoyed talking to Herbert and how happy I was to have taken the time to meet him. And though it typically never crosses my mind to wonder or even care, I think he enjoyed talking to me as well. There's so much to be learned from unplanned and happenstance events. Never once did our conversation lean towards what we do for a living, who we know, or what we believe in or not. It was just a sincere conversation of hellos.

It was clear that Herbert didn't need much to enjoy his day... just a fishing pole, some water, and a bucket. All too often, time has an incredible way of moving fast. Some days are even quicker than that. But if you’re lucky, you have a few that move as slow as the tide.

Thank you, Herbert. I enjoyed the catch.