Gone fishing

To the Editor,

Our current pandemic provides an opportunity like no other to reflect — What is important? What is of value? What gives life meaning? And so forth.

Several years ago, while I was sitting in an orthopedic surgeon’s waiting room, a man with his arm and shoulder in a sling sat down near me. He began to tell his story. His was the worst rotator-cuff injury the surgeon had seen. The damage occurred while fishing. “Fishing,” I thought. He said he stood on a high bridge, and his catch was so heavy that the mere act of reeling in the fish had caused him severe physical damage. That was the first of many fish stories. They grew big, bigger, biggest with each telling. 

As signs of mental fatigue began to present themselves, I interrupted the storytelling with a question: “Will you fish again?” The demeanor and tone of my new acquaintance changed from that of happy reminiscing to thoughtful truth telling. He looked at me as if to determine whether I was serious-minded. “I would rather not live if I cannot fish,” was his immediate response.

Later, remembering the words of the fisherman, I considered what would cause me to make such a declaration. “Walking and writing,” I thought. With that new awareness, I collected my pen and notepad, donned my hat and shoes, and went walking.

Carmen Bruce
Swarthmore