Pop would see the gear lined up by the back door and hear us revert to “sporting speak”, clipped sentences punctuated by, “you bringing the …” and “did you remember…” and he’d gaze out the window, gauging the rainfall and comment to no one in particular, ” .. another goddamn fishless fishing trip.”
Naturally we were incensed, I’d retort with, “fish are always wet!” and older bro would mumble something unintelligible – as older brother’s are want to do, letting me bear the brunt of Wisdom’s cool gaze.
Pop was almost always right. Sometimes we’d catch fish and other times we’d catch cold, but we always sniffled defiantly while Ma spooned us Chicken soup.
Somehow we all learned what Pop knew; for some it was early, for others it was much later (if ever). One day it was us gauging the water spilling off the roof and we reached for the TV remote rather than the rod…
SMJ and I were headed North for the Season Opener, with the above weather forecast as backdrop.
Hardened Californio’s scoff at inclement weather, insist on camping outdoors versus moteling it, prefer “wife beater’s” imbued with wood smoke and mayonnaise – versus water resistant Poly-anything …
… at least we did in our 20’s, now that we’re nearing the Half Century mark – I’m not so sure old guys aren’t like a couple after their first spat, both poised over the phone refusing to be the one that wimps calls first.
Our womenfolk have witnessed this male ritual too many times to be fooled, yet endure our manly posturing like Pop did:
“It’s going to be snowing all three days, you guys are nuts!”
“Yea, it’s no problem, I’ll pack an extra tee shirt, unless Meathead wimps.”
She’s out of earshot usually, scribbling “Chicken broth” next to “NyQuil” on the shopping list, so’s when Dan’l Boone returns she’ll have all the proper restoratives close to hand.
I’m sure SMJ’s jaw was set like iron as he leaned over the phone expectantly, so I sent an email instead. Wisdom intrudes occasionally and like my Pop I’ve begun to recognize the crucial underpinnings of fishless.
WTF? You guys bailed on this weekend? Huh? Wimps.
that’s soft fellas
I’ll assume all guilt. Bring that weaksauce …
I knew you weren’t going anywhere as soon as I saw the word “snow” in the forecast.
You know, you’d be fine if you would just spring for some of that great clothing that TC goes through all the trouble of testing for you.
Coming Next From Singlebarbed:
“How to go from Brownliner to Pantyliner in One Post”
And no, I’m refusing the delivery of all parcels for the next week.
OK, it’s Friday AM and it’s actually snowing lightly up here at Man Cave Headquarters. It won’t stick – and it’s not a manly snow by any means – but it suggests Singlebarbed possesses powers of precognition that I do not.