Today I spied someone anchored off the edge of the property, just over on the neighbor's side. They fished for at least an hour, which was unusual, because most lake fishermen drift by the lakefront quietly, tossing their lines into the lake grass. But this person anchored and was casting with a small rod out toward the center of the lake. I was curious and walked down to meet Ralph, a black man, who was catching brim. Most were too small and he was throwing them back. But every cast brought back a fish, almost immediately.
Ralph, who was acquainted with a lakefront property owner on the other side of the lake, was obviously having a good time. He said he was catching fish to feed the homeless. I’m going to assume that did not include him, since he had a nice aluminum john-boat with a small, electric kicker on the back. We talked for a few minutes, about his technique, his bait (red worms), and our preferences for salt- vs. freshwater fishing. I grew up in South Tampa, off the Bay, and knew only about dropping a line in water that was salt. Now, living on a lake north of Tampa, I wish I knew more about freshwater fishing.
I shared with him Beth’s story about releasing a big freshwater catfish in the lake. Interestingly, Ralph said he had never caught a catfish in this lake. Apparently he fishes the lake often, although I’ve not seen him -- but I may have. He wears a floppy hat with a cover over the back of his neck. I have a vague feeling that I’ve seen him out on the lake. We exchanged first names and Ralph offered to take me out on the lake any time I should see him. In parting, he offered to do any odd jobs around the house, saying he wasn’t afraid to do some hard work.
I’m glad I took the time to walk down to the lakefront and meet Ralph. You never know what opportunities you may miss to connect with others if you stay holed up, never opening yourself up to new experiences.
Just like the other day -- when I walked up to the road-front to get the mail. There, again, was someone I had only briefly talked to, walking his big, old Great Dane. We had a great conversation about power outages and … Vietnam. Turns out we were both there -- he just ahead of me, and during some of the worst fighting. He’s a retired Master Chief in the Navy, and as a result of our newfound friendship, he offered to loan us his very cool generator the next time our power goes out and he’s not needing it.
Sometimes I just love being an extrovert, although it’s at times painful. But what I learned long ago as a newspaper reporter was that everyone IS interesting, has a story to tell, and loves to talk about themselves (me included, as you might notice.)
