As I stared at the eyes and facial expression of this man, who, over the years, became my good friend and mentor, the lyrics to an old Frank Sinatra tune sprang to mind. The tune I'm talking about is "My Way." When I read those lyrics, I knew I had found the perfect opening for my anniversary story.
My Way
And now, the end is here,
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way.
Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through, without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way.
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way.
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way."
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!
Yes, it was my way.
Paul Anka rewrote those lyrics for Ol' Blue Eyes from a French song he discovered. Anka's lyrics changed the original song's meaning to be about a man looking back fondly on a life he lived on his own terms, and that description seemed to fit Dewey to a T. If I'm mistaken, I beg his and the family's forgiveness. I never would do anything to disrespect any of you.
In the year since Dewey passed, I've continued spending a lot of time at West Neck Marina, and his name still comes up in many conversations. I personally always have a lot of reminders at my fingertips because, you see, my tackleboxes still are filled with many of the baits he made. From chatterbaits to spinnerbaits, I have examples of 'em all and likely will for a long time to come. It's comforting to have those reminders. In many cases, they trigger memories of discussions he and I used to have about different lures and little tricks he suggested I try for better results.
A few months back, a friend filling the backseat of my boat happened to see me using one of Dewey's creations--a little twin-armed spinnerbait. After watching how smoothly it came through the water time after time, he asked me where I had gotten it. He figured I had purchased it from a commercial tackle store. When I told him it came from Dewey, we got into a fairly lengthy give-and-take about Dewey's creativity and the lengths to which he went to ensure his creations worked right. I often stood and watched him testing new lures in the water off the deck there in front of the marina store.
Besides creativity, Dewey was blessed with a knack for running bass tourneys. Whether it was regional contests that he ran in earlier days, or the West Neck tourneys that he oversaw until his passing, Dewey always, above everything else, insisted on fair play. He gave new meaning to the term "no-nonsense type of guy."
Another quality Dewey had was an ability to mask his pain. I never heard him complain, even on days when I knew he was hurting badly--thanks to reports I got from Jane. Most days, all the way to the end, he came out to the store and opened up for business. On occasion, usually after he had undergone a cancer treatment, you might find Jane or Brian minding the store while Dewey rested in the house, but that was the exception, not the rule.
Then came the time when, as I would leave the store to come home, I'd tell Dewey I'd see him again in a couple days or so, and he would respond, "I'll try to be here." Before those last days, he always would say, "I reckon I'll be here." It was a subtle change, but I picked up on it right away. He also started making it a point to shake my hand each time as I left. I knew what it all meant and, at times, struggled to keep my cool, but I did, because I knew that's how Dewey wanted it: his way.
Dewey left this life on Nov. 8, 2012, at the age of 75. He may be gone, but as far as I'm concerned, he'll never be forgotten, especially not after the events of the past few days. The river water in the weeks leading up to our 2013 Classic had been about the color you'd expect to find in a farm pond used for watering cattle. And then early last week, with the arrival of strong northeast winds and daily rain, the level predictably dropped to only 2.2 feet on the ramp gauge. But as quickly as it dropped, it came surging back in, and by day 1 of our Classic, was some of the prettiest water any of us have seen in a long while. And it stayed high through both days of our 2013 Classic, despite the fact all the weather forecasters were continuing to call for strong northeast winds.
We've all been befuddled, trying to figure out how the water could stay so high with these winds, and what caused it to come back so clear, especially after all the rain that has fallen in recent days. There should have been a lot of muddy runoff, but there wasn't. As a bunch of us sat on a picnic bench at West Neck Marina last afternoon, enjoying the good food at our Classic cookout, we were talking about this situation, when one of the guys said, "I think ol' Dewey was sitting Up Yonder and decided to work a little bit more of his special magic to give us these unbelievable conditions." I truly believe those sentiments--they echo exactly what I've been thinking for days.
If you're Up There listening, my ol' friend, here's a big "THANK YOU!" from a bunch of grateful guys who always will have warm memories of your days here with us.
A few months back, a friend filling the backseat of my boat happened to see me using one of Dewey's creations--a little twin-armed spinnerbait. After watching how smoothly it came through the water time after time, he asked me where I had gotten it. He figured I had purchased it from a commercial tackle store. When I told him it came from Dewey, we got into a fairly lengthy give-and-take about Dewey's creativity and the lengths to which he went to ensure his creations worked right. I often stood and watched him testing new lures in the water off the deck there in front of the marina store.
Besides creativity, Dewey was blessed with a knack for running bass tourneys. Whether it was regional contests that he ran in earlier days, or the West Neck tourneys that he oversaw until his passing, Dewey always, above everything else, insisted on fair play. He gave new meaning to the term "no-nonsense type of guy."
Another quality Dewey had was an ability to mask his pain. I never heard him complain, even on days when I knew he was hurting badly--thanks to reports I got from Jane. Most days, all the way to the end, he came out to the store and opened up for business. On occasion, usually after he had undergone a cancer treatment, you might find Jane or Brian minding the store while Dewey rested in the house, but that was the exception, not the rule.
Then came the time when, as I would leave the store to come home, I'd tell Dewey I'd see him again in a couple days or so, and he would respond, "I'll try to be here." Before those last days, he always would say, "I reckon I'll be here." It was a subtle change, but I picked up on it right away. He also started making it a point to shake my hand each time as I left. I knew what it all meant and, at times, struggled to keep my cool, but I did, because I knew that's how Dewey wanted it: his way.
Dewey left this life on Nov. 8, 2012, at the age of 75. He may be gone, but as far as I'm concerned, he'll never be forgotten, especially not after the events of the past few days. The river water in the weeks leading up to our 2013 Classic had been about the color you'd expect to find in a farm pond used for watering cattle. And then early last week, with the arrival of strong northeast winds and daily rain, the level predictably dropped to only 2.2 feet on the ramp gauge. But as quickly as it dropped, it came surging back in, and by day 1 of our Classic, was some of the prettiest water any of us have seen in a long while. And it stayed high through both days of our 2013 Classic, despite the fact all the weather forecasters were continuing to call for strong northeast winds.
We've all been befuddled, trying to figure out how the water could stay so high with these winds, and what caused it to come back so clear, especially after all the rain that has fallen in recent days. There should have been a lot of muddy runoff, but there wasn't. As a bunch of us sat on a picnic bench at West Neck Marina last afternoon, enjoying the good food at our Classic cookout, we were talking about this situation, when one of the guys said, "I think ol' Dewey was sitting Up Yonder and decided to work a little bit more of his special magic to give us these unbelievable conditions." I truly believe those sentiments--they echo exactly what I've been thinking for days.
If you're Up There listening, my ol' friend, here's a big "THANK YOU!" from a bunch of grateful guys who always will have warm memories of your days here with us.
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