Angels and Largemouth Bass

My love for fishing comes very naturally. I love everything about it. The smell of the water, plastic lures, and new gear. Getting stuck by hooks, and working out my tangles; good luck with yours. I love the rain, cold, humidity, and sunburn. I can't get to sleep the night before, and I usually wake up before my alarm. I fish from the bank, dock, or boat. It just doesn't matter. Standing in a river chest deep in waders, or bits deep, wet wading in shorts. I love it all, but at the source it is the energy I get from the initial strike, to the moment I know I am in for a fight. I don't care if the fish is an 8 foot shark, or a 3 inch trout. For me, it taps into the purest vibration of life. 

Largemouth bass seem to enjoy fishing as much as I do. They are often as enthusiastic about it as The Waterboy is about football. Sometimes, I cannot determine who is enjoying the fight more. The splash when they strike is like a bowling ball landing in the water, and they dive and jump like Navy Seals on an obstacle course. With only a silken line and flexible stick as weapons, it always comes down to the wire. Is the hook set, or did I flinch when she took the bait? It usually only takes one jump to find out.

The first largemouth bass came into my life when I was only seven years old. There have been countless since. I can't remember them all. But the first will always be my truest memory. 

It was a hot summer day. My brother picked me up on his mo-ped to take me fishing down at the gravel pits. It was humid and dusty as we zipped along the gravel road between the railroad tracks, and tree lined bank of a flooded quarry pond that has a nickname I don't remember. I do remember we turned into the trees at a trail where an abandoned firehose snuck into the brush like an anaconda. The hose was the trail marker he told me to watch out for, because he had a secret spot for me. We parked the bike, and ducked into the shade of the trees that had a short trail leading to the edge of the water. He got my rod set up, and had me put a worm on a bare hook with no weight. "Be really quiet, Peter, and step close to the edge, but not too close. Stay low. Cast your line over that floating log right there, and just let it sit." I listened to every line of instruction. I made the cast. I let it sit. I started to ask him if… "Set the hook!", he quickly and harshly whispered into my ear. Immediately, I felt electricity and adrenaline take over my entire 50 pound body. I think I almost ended up in the water, but I hung in there and landed 'er. A 1 lbs. 3 oz. freight train of fun. A largemouth bass. We ate it that night for dinner. I couldn't, and still cannot, get enough. It's my not so secret life obsession, and it is also the conduit for me to connect to my purpose and personal relationship in this world.

Without largemouth bass, there remains a multitude of people and experiences for which I have immense gratitude, but had I never been introduced, I may never have believed in a Power beyond human conception. Which leads me to, Angels.

I have lost 3 close friends already this year. My Aunt Mary, and two long time customers, Sally and Terry. I have known Terry as a friend from my first days in Longmont, almost 20 years ago.

Sally is a classic farm-girl-gone-Boulder County from way back. Straight up legit. She would be pulling weeds at 80 years-old in July like it was just something to do. Some days I didn't want her to think, or make me look like, I was lazy. Tough as leather, and kind as candy. She made sure people knew they mattered. 

Two weeks ago, I started working on her lawn for the season. Everything was still as I had last seen it in the fall. I started with my machine in the backyard, and as I walked by the deck, I waved, and called out, "Hey Sally! Here we are for another season. Just like that. Good to see you again!", and then I heard back, "Hey there, Pete! Great to see you too. God bless you for taking care of my yard!" I laughed a little, because I thought it was neat I could still imagine Sally's personality.

I was smiling, and kept working along, but after about 10 or 15 minutes I realized we were still having a conversation.

"Well, Pete, it looks like you are doing just fine, and I am so glad for you. I just want to tell you that. I know it's not always easy, and you care about people and what they are thinking or doing a little too much at times, but that's ok. You will settle in, just be patient and keep doing what you are doing," she had a way of being honest without being hurtful. I struggle with that.

"Thank you for saying that, Sally. I am trying everyday to grow, change, and heal. I want that so much for the people in my life that are lost like I was, and sometimes I don't know if I am still lost myself," I replied. All of this was just kind of flowing through the air. It wasn't so much in my mind, as it was in the containment of the fenced-in yard and space within. Like an empty arena. 

"Oh, Pete. You are so special to me, and I don't think you're lost. I guess that's just how life goes. We don't really ever know where it's going. We're just along for the ride, but if we pay attention, we get to enjoy such simple things along the way."

"I know what you mean, Sally. Or, I believe that, is what I should say. I have learned so much, but man, it has been so complicated and painful."

Sally came back with a laugh, "Don't we just drive ourselves crazy sometimes? You'd think we were just gluttons for punishment."

"Amen, Sally," and this went on for the entire 30 minutes that I worked at her house. I continued at her next door neighbor’s, and the music just played in my headphones.  No more voices.

I left the neighborhood, but had to come back a few hours later to do a quick extra job that came up next door. As I pulled away to leave the second time, I said out loud, "Thanks for the convo earlier today, Sally." 

"Oh, we're not quite done, Pete, not just yet," and I was now driving down the street freaking out. I had to turn down the music. I just listened and tried to keep up, and not get into an accident. 

It was a 10 minute drive to the next jobsite. About halfway there, I was letting the tears roll down my face as Sally was just talking to me like she was riding shotgun. I wasn't crying because I was sad, or happy, as far as I could tell. I was just not handling or comprehending what was happening to, or with, me. "Sally, I am trying to drive, and I am getting to a busy intersection. Can we hold off until I get to the next house?"

"Oh gosh, Pete, I'm so sorry. I know, I am just so happy you are open to this. Drive safe, and I will wait right here," I don't even know what to think at this point. I distinctly remember wiping my eyes and shaking my head as I pulled up to the notoriously chaotic 4-way stop. I took a right turn at the golf course, and continued down 3rd Ave. "So, I was about to tell you about when I was a little gi…"

"Hey, I'm still driving! I thought we were going to hold off for a minute until I can stop."

"You're going straight now, and there's nothing around you. You can handle it the rest of the way," shaking my head and almost cracking up, "...so, when I was a little girl, I wanted to tell you, we would just lay back in the grass, play with the flowers, and let the sun shine on our face. It was just that simple, you know what I mean?"

"I think I do, Sally. I do," and then I pulled to a stop in front of my customers house. I took some deep breaths and wiped my face again. I paused, and let my mind and body readjust to the atmosphere. It took a minute.

It was quiet, and my windows were rolled all the way up. I shut off the truck. In the wake of the experience, I had a thought drift like a single falling feather into my consciousness. What if I could talk to Alicia? 

Alicia was my closest friend and coworker at Indian Peaks Golf Course. We played 80 rounds of golf together, in one summer! She was impossibly true and kind. Like no other I have known. She was so good, and she never knew how great she was. She was an angel with a killer golf swing, but only because it was so sweet. She passed away fifteen years ago, before she could complete her PhD. in mathematics at C.U. Boulder. 

It was a hiking accident. She left for a camping trip from the golf course in a thunderstorm two nights before. I had to close the shop that night. I told her to drive safe, and that I thought she should wait until morning after the storm moved out. She laughed at my silly suggestion, and as she said goodbye, lightning struck near, if not on, the 18th green next to the clubhouse…We never saw each other again. 

"Sally, I wonder, if I can talk to you, can I also talk with Alicia?"

"I thought you would never ask…"

"Heeeyya!", was all I needed to hear of her voice, and sliding from behind and past Sally's shoulder stepped, Alicia. So beautiful and smiling. All of the light in the Universe lit up behind her. I broke down in tears, once again, and we embraced as she skipped into my arms. I could feel her entire spirit and presence as if she had returned to the course for work the very next Monday. I could not let go of that moment we were now sharing.

Alicia and I stayed together for the next hour-and-a-half as I cut up a wind fallen cedar tree with my chainsaw for the final job of the day. We just hung out! It was the most special gift I have received in sobriety. We talked about everything. She answered all of my questions in her own way. She told me she has enjoyed watching the shitshow from afar since she left town, and barreled over laughing at me. I laughed too. 

The one thing she told me, that I will share with you, is this…"Peter, no matter what, I am here. I can be here at anytime. Don't be shy or embarrassed to ask, and there is no way you can call on me too often, too early, or too late. I will always show up. I will always listen. And I will always be honest. I will always have your best interests in mind, and you can trust in that with everything you feel in your heart. I love you!" This is a miracle. This is the miracle of my life.  We have shared more time together since this “reconnection”, and I will never let it go.

The moment these words were spoken to me, I knew that I was in contact with a Spirit beyond my understanding. Through Sally and Alicia, through alcohol recovery and the people that have taught me lessons in and around a program of recovery, through you all and my family, and the heartache and heartbeat of life, God was sending me a very important message…

"Peter, go fishing, it's just that simple…"