Cortisone shots and burbon soaked cigars
“I can’t hardly walk sometimes”, my friend Ed said as we talked in the store the other day. “My knees, man, they’re killing me”. Ed’s a big guy, rides his bike to keep in shape, does what he can to cope with a long term ailment of the knees. We kept trying to put together a fishing outing wading in the river, but it was going to be tough.
A few days later he came bouncing through the door shouting “liquid gold, baby, liquid gold”! Apparently his doctor had given him a couple of cortisone shots, and he felt like he was on top of the world. “Let’s go fishing”, he said. Ok.
We got to our local park, got geared up, waded in and positioned ourselves upstream of a pool we thought would get active when the Hex flies started. We caught some fish here and there, certainly enough to keep things interesting. Ed caught what seemed like a half dozen rock bass from the same exact square foot of river at the end of a log. Rocky Racoons, we called them. We had a great laugh about that one.
We caught a few smallmouth, but it was a light night. Not many risers even though it was a good hex hatch. I love those little things. It’s fun just to watch them dance up and down and fly full out up and down the river in a steady stream. “This is like being in Disneyworld or something”, I said to Ed. He agreed.
Well before dark we decided to head back to the car where a tailgate, some cold beverages, and some friendly talk awaited. I looked forward to that part of fishing just as much as the fishing itself. It would be a great distraction and a re-focus on what’s important in life, as the personal life still had it’s persistent pain. You’d agree we’ve all been through it if you knew what it was. I talk about it because it’s part of life, and life has it’s twists, turns, starts…and stops. Seems like it’s never smooth, settled, sure, or predictable. When will I ever understand that? Maybe life is more like fishing (or a box of chocolates) than I’d like to believe. Oh well.
“How’s your knees?”, I asked Ed. “Fine”, he replied. “I told you man, liquid gold.” The wonders of modern medicine. Here was a guy who couldn’t fish, and now was. It made me respect my Father, a world renown orthopedic surgeon, even more, as I’m sure he’s improved lives like this on a daily basis. I sure didn’t respect him enough then, or tell him how much I respect him even now.
Back at the car the friendly jabbing back and forth, that had been a big part of the evening, continued. Who caught the smallest fish, who caught more, who tangled more, caught more trees, etc. Plenty of kidding with absolutely no risk of hurt feelings. Man I love it when you’re with people like that. A few other guys came up from the river and joined right in. How cool is that. How cool is it that they had a couch in the back of their truck they found on the road. It was in good shape, and they asked if I wanted it. I did need one, but nah, thanks anyway.
“Here”, Ed said. I looked around and there he was holding a cigar. “These were soaked in Bourbon and Bitters”.
In my simple world, one of the nicest things a guy can do is hand me a cigar. I like them, I’m not crazy about them, but they are good, especially in a setting like that. I lit it up and savored the unique flavor. Ed went into the details of where he got them, how they were made, and so on.
Well, the park closes at 10:00, and it was 9:58. Time to leave, or the Ranger would lock the gate and we’d have to sleep out under the stars until the next morning. Hmmm.
