Remembering My Friend and Mentor

This year marks the second anniversary of my ol' friend's passing, and so it's once again my privilege to honor his legacy. I've chosen to pay my respects with the poem that follows:

Requiem for a Fisherman

 

A quiet troll across the lake

Its surface still and mirrored

The moisture in the air so thick

As morning sun appears

 

The line is whipped with deft finesse

It sails with graceful ease

Near reeds exposed, and tangled roots

Just missing willowed trees

 

The first bite starts the tingled thrill

All time is stopped in place

No sound or movement, not a breath

This single-focused face

 

A stronger tug, the pole is flicked

The hook so cleanly set

The game goes on with line kept tight

The prize steered toward the net

 

The feeling of accomplishment

It saturates your soul

Where skill and silent patience

Are the answer to the goal

 

You may not get another bite

For hours through the day

But Nature's sweet serenity

Is often why you stay

 

There comes that day for all the best

The fishing's done at last

The final time you tie a hook

The final spinning cast

 

But Lord, we hope a lake exists

In Heaven's grand design

Where once again you'll feel the thrill

Of tugging on your line

 

Copyright by Jeff Wright

 

I unfortunately never got to spend a day or, for that matter, even an hour on the water with Dewey. However, many were the times he would regale me and other regular patrons there in the West Neck Marina Store, especially during those long winter months. I still can see him reared back there behind the counter in his favorite chair, telling of fishing trips past that he had taken.

I particularly remember one such occasion when Dewey's long-time friend, Woo Daves, dropped in unexpectedly and spent a few minutes reliving some special moments he and Dewey had enjoyed together over the years. That reunion occurred in the year 2000, shortly after Woo had become the first and, to date, only Virginian ever to win the Bassmaster Classic. He had an autographed photo from his victory celebration that he wanted to give Dewey that particular day.

My fine, bewhiskered friend made a lasting impression on me, and I'll always be grateful that I at least got to know him rather well while he was here with us. And, Dewey, if there indeed is a lake there in Heaven, I sincerely hope you'll catch a great ol' big 'un just for me.