By Wilson Love
Long ago in a land far, far away (Swannanoa valley) lived a great fisherman; a man twenty years older who befriended and mentored me. He gazes down now from his mansion in Glory. I’ll call him T.J.
T.J. owned three fishing poles: a lake rod, a stream rod, and a broken rod. He carried his tackle in a brown paper bag. His small lure collection was missing some of the hooks and much of the paint that originally adorned them. When a Rooster Tail’s spinner became dull from age, T.J. would pick up a small, sharp-edged stone and scratch the “shine” back onto it. “Good for another year or 10,000 miles”, he’d say, “whichever comes first”.
I ate many a tasty meal of walleye and trout at T.J.’s table, proving that the latest, greatest gear isn’t necessary for success on the water.
More importantly, I learned a lot about contentment from T.J. Pitching a plug or setting a trap was all it took to please him. When it rained he spooled his reels, cruised his extensive sports card collection, or watched a game on TV.
In later years and with failing health, he still mustered the strength to take me to his favorite spots. Not satisfied to just remember the good times, my friend T.J kept producing those good times until the very end.
Another man who became great in my eyes lives in a tiny corner of the universe called Ivy River. Now retired, Art ran a carpet cleaning business with just one employee – himself. He’s a master gardener and still tries to teach me how to grow a good tomato.
Forty years ago, Art bought several acres of land and set to building himself a house. He had a floor plan, $5,000 and a vision. Three years later, he and his bride moved into their completed new home – debt free.
In that process, Art gathered river stone for the rock work, labored overtime to buy materials, and bartered with skilled neighbors to get it done. Strong and super active in his early seventies, Art is the only person I know who is smiling every time I see him.
My third entry on this list deserves a medal for persistence and another for commitment; two of the finest qualities a person can have.
Kal came to his senses in his late forties and moved down here to God’s country from somewhere way up there in the frozen north. We met at an Asheville Tourists baseball game and the talk turned immediately to fishing. That meeting grew into a rewarding friendship. He fishes a lot more than I do. I think he spends more time on the water than I do on my feet.
While out wading the French Broad for smallmouth years ago, a nice one twisted off his line. “Oh, man!” I whined. Reaching out to check his lure, Kal replied, “I’ve done this enough that it doesn’t matter when they get away”. I learned something that day. Fishing is its own reward. It is better to have fished and lost, than never to have fished at all.
Most of us have heroes, even the selfies whose hero lives in the mirror. These hero/friends I’ve written about are real, and by the grace of God have profoundly impacted a country boy’s life. They taught me that life doesn’t consist of what happens to me, but of what comes out of me. They taught me to be content; but never stop working, never stop playing. And above all, they taught me to always give God the credit for a great life to live. May your heroes be as authentic as mine. (Luke 12:22-31)
Wilson Love is Owner/Operator of The Practical Outdoorsman, a retail and consignment store.