Fishless Days and Rainy Nights

(Published with permission of the author, Glenn Busch, who originally posted this article Sept. 15, 2018.)

When I got up this morning, it was raining. What's new? This area of Southwest Virginia is nearly 12 inches above average rainfall, and if the forecast for the next few days proves accurate, we'll soon be way past that.

As I write, Hurricane Florence is bearing down on the coast. The governor has declared a state of emergency, people are being evacuated, and there is a good chance the storm will extend its drippy fingers deep into Central Virginia.

This is information you probably already have, but I include it as an explanation, if not an excuse, to a certain segment of my readers. I know, I know, I haven't written a single fishing story for quite some time. You don't need to remind me. That's why what follows is an apology, my mea culpa, so you won't give up and go away.

I meant to do better, honest; but if one is to write about entertaining angling experiences, one has to have them, right? But I'll get back to that below.

When this blog was established (243 posts ago; can you believe it?) my intention was to write mostly about fishing (thus the blog's title), with some essays on family, friendship and spirituality added to the mix, for a little variety.

That made a lot of sense at the time. I had recently retired and was deep into a post-retirement fantasy that saw me traveling the country while spending endless days on the water catching remarkable fish...which, of course, was going to generate an abundance of material to write about.

Ok, so the fantasy was perhaps a bit adolescent, but what serious golfer among my dear readers can say with a straight face that he doesn't indulge a similar fantasy about spending his, or her, autumn years prowling the manicured links. So let's have a little perspective here, please.

As it turns out, retirement is rife with opportunities, and if you're not there yet, you should look forward to it. But it isn't an entree to a Huckleberry Finn epoch of diminished responsibilities.

There was a lot of fishing when I first retired, certainly more than I was used to when I was working; but then came the realization that certain obligations just don't go away. And besides, an enjoyable activity practiced too often runs the risk of becoming routine, undercutting its capacity for refreshment and renewal. I suspect that the not-yet-retired are rolling your eyes at that comment. But just wait. You'll see.

As time passed, I was drawn to volunteer activities that addressed issues that concerned me--the environment, hunger, poverty, substandard housing--and I began writing about them, too. But fishing remained my first and favorite choice.

Then along came Trump. No-no-no-no-no, we're not going there today. Those of you who have hung in with the blog know that I have had more than a little to say on that subject. Some readers didn't care for the deviation, but I remain unapologetic for raising issues that trouble me deeply, and would feel remiss if I hadn't. But again, it wasn't fishing.

Work interfered, too. It began with a little part-time fill-in stuff; then recently, I took on a 30-hour-a-week interim gig that consumes the bulk of my week. I can't say that I'm not enjoying the work, because I am; but it does cut into time that might otherwise be spent deceiving trout and smallmouth bass.

Despite all that, I still might have eked out a fishing story or two if I had something to write about. But there has been so much rain this summer that the rivers and streams have often been too high to fish, at least when I've been able to go. And a much-anticipated trip planned for next week looks like it's going to be washed out, too.

I can't remember a summer when I've fished less than I have this one. And while I'm not circling the pit of despond, it has been disappointing.

So, brother and sister anglers, that's my compendium of excuses for not writing anything about our sport recently. But don't lose hope. Surely fresh material is soon to be discovered.

Well, there is the hurricane that is headed this way, which is likely to flood the streams for weeks to come. And by the time the water recedes, I'll have all those fall church activities to attend to, which will put us on the cusp of winter, when the fish go dormant. And I've got that hip surgery in January that's going to limit my mobility for a while.

Wait a minute here. I'm beginning to sound like somebody who needs an attitude check...somebody who needs to lighten up...and go fishing.

About the author: Due entirely to his father's military service, Glenn was born in Kissimmee, FL, just months before his dad mustered out, and the family returned to their Pittsburgh, PA home. A graduate of Penn State University, he began a career as an Episcopal priest in 1971, and served churches in Virginia and North Carolina, before retiring in 2008, as rector emeritus of St. Mary's Church in High Point, NC, after a pastorate of more than 27 years. It was during the High Point years that he also became a college teacher. While still serving as rector of the parish, High Point University asked him to become an adjunct faculty member, where, for 18 years, he taught for the department of religion and philosophy. Glenn and his wife, Kathleen, have two children and two grandchildren upon whom they dote as often as time and distance will allow. They retired to Lynchburg, VA in 2008, where Kathleen paints and he writes. "Thanks once again, my good friend, for allowing me this opportunity to share another one of your always well-written blog posts with my readers."

I was feeling a little down until I happened across Glenn's blog post above and realized there are lots of us in this "Fishless Days and Rainy Nights" boat. His words served to pick me up, and here's hoping they have a positive effect on some of you, too.