After spending a few hours yesterday and today perusing the Internet, I found countless numbers of anglers who said they were resolved to do such things as exercise and get in fishing shape, catch more fish, catch bigger fish, win a couple or more tournaments, start eating healthy and/or lose 20 pounds, give up smoking, drink less booze, stop chasing wild women...you get the picture, right?
In one forum I was reviewing, though, parked smack dab in the middle of a bunch of these well-meaning-but-short-on-stick-to-itiveness anglers was the following commentary from an old-timer:
"Well, let me tell y'all something now. Last Thursday, I turned 95 years old, and I've never exercised a day in my life. Every morning, I wake up and smoke a cigarette. Then I eat five strips of bacon. And for lunch, I eat a bacon sandwich. For a mid-day snack, I have more bacon...a whole plateful, to be exact. I then usually drink my dinner.
"According to all of them flat-belly experts, I should've taken a dirt nap like 30 years ago. But each year comes and goes, and I'm still here...while they all just keep dyin', you know?"
It wasn't until near the end of my second day of reviewing that I happened across someone who could honestly say he had made a New Year's resolution and stuck to it. Best of all, he felt extremely glad he had been successful.
His resolution wasn't what you would call a run-of-the-mill idea. What prompted him to do it in the first place was knowing there are too many nice things about people that go unsaid during their lifetime.
"All the eulogies I've ever heard and obituaries I've read have left me wondering whether the subjects knew how respected they were," he said. "These people should get to hear such kind and complimentary things."
As a result, he decided to sit down and write letters to the most important people in his life--his wife, family and friends--to explicitly tell them the things that he likes and respects about them.
"I thought it was a small thing but a nice way to make their days a little better.
"I don't think it changed anyone's life," he acknowledged, "but the response I got was bigger than I expected. Everyone appreciated it. Some cried. A few sent me letters of their own, outlining what they admire about me (which absolutely wasn't my objective). A couple said my letter came at important times for them, reinforcing their confidence when they were feeling low about themselves, or encouraging to back themselves at a crossroads in their lives."
As the gent explained, "The whole exercise did not take me very long (maybe 10 to 15 minutes per letter). I found myself reusing a lot of material. Turns out I like a lot of my friends for similar reasons. But it seems to have meant a lot to the people I wrote to. Ever since then, I've tried to make sure people know when I have something nice to say about them. I'm always on the lookout for other small, simple and easy ways to make others feel better about themselves."
Back when I knew Dewey Mullins didn't have long to live, it was this philosophy that guided me to initially name our West Neck tournaments the "Dewey Mullins Tribute Tourney Series" and to convince David and Teresa Winfree to post those two signs at the marina's entrance. I've always felt that far too many people leave this mortal life without ever knowing how much they and their efforts are appreciated.
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