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Old 08-18-2013, 03:36 PM
hairwing530 hairwing530 is offline
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Location: northern Michigan
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Default Re: I Met Myself Last Night...

An old editor/friend of mine from years ago once asked me to sum up in two words exactly what it was that I was seeking whenever I was astream or afield. After a moment or two of thought, I answered... Connected tranquility..." A little explanation and further definition might be in order...

I broke down my choice of descriptions in this way: I head outdoors to forever be connected to those who introduced me to the sports of fly fishing and upland bird hunting, the men who impacted my life in the best of ways. Almost all of my best memories revolve around hours spent in like-minded and often older company who taught by example, and gifted me with an appreciation for the greatest outdoor pleasures imaginable.

As for the tranquility aspect of the description? I've long sought the woods and waters for the simple "cleansing properties" of the outdoors. No matter your burdens or the weight you carry, a day spent wandering a new stretch of river or an undiscovered stretch of upland coverts can make it all seem bearable. At least, to my way of thinking...

This morning, the "tranquility" of my thrice-weekly regular visits to "Trail's End" was shattered by the harsh realities of greed and disdain. As I was checking in on the old cabin, two men arrived in a car that came to a halt behind the ol' "Fish Truck." One was a complete stranger. The other? The man I recognized to be Montgomery Jackson II, the "son"-- and I use that term only from a purely biological standpoint --of the late Montgomery Jackson, and a constant source of heartache for the latter for many years. To say that the "son" shunned the father would be greatly understating the split between the two men, even in the late Montgomery Jackson's final years.

They had come to "Trail's End" to evaluate the old cabin's "sale potential" and to gain access to the interior for possible "resale items," with bolt cutters, if necessary. They left without learning either one, instead throwing down the gauntlet of a lawsuit, a variety of threats, and a wealth of "colorful" language. Me? I locked the gate and double-chained it before making the drive back home and finding myself almost feeling sorry for the delusional (insert your own expletive here...)

Had I written this a few hours ago, my "intensity" might have been more fire and anger than anything else. At this point in the day, however, after having two of my lawyer-fishing cronies review the deed, will, et al, my gut churns more with disgust and loathing for so unfeeling a man. He cared little in life for one of the finest men I've yet to know, and now he seeks to profit from his death? How sad and small a man Montgomery Jackson II turned out to be.

Tonight, I will continue my mentoring of another Montgomery Jackson-- this one being Montgomery Jackson III. Fortunately, he is every bit his late grandfather's grandson, and one of my greatest hopes for the generations and years to come, both astream and afield...
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