I received a note in
the mail from a buddy of mine. The message was handwritten on a neat note card
and enclosed in the envelope alongside a short anecdote cut from a magazine.
Outwardly, and not surprisingly, you could say the story was about fishing. But
fishing stories on their own – and after you’ve read enough of them – can get
pretty dry so of course there was far more to it than that. There were elements
of nostalgia and melancholy, with flavor of longing for times past and some
regret of the way things are shaping up for the future. It’s about a simple and
down-to-earth way of life on a river that’s becoming complicated with techno
gadgets and high-powered fuel burning machinery that’s hard for folks like me
to understand the appeal.
I’m reminded of a time many years ago when I
was 16 years old and I thought my dirt bike would be a great way to get into a
particular trout stream. I stopped at a bend in the trail when I met an old
fisherman and his wife hiking out with their rods in their hands and wicker
creels hung from their shoulders. Over the idling engine I asked the old-timer
how the stream looked down there. He replied in no uncertain terms that the
stream was beautiful and it was a shame I was about to ruin it with that damned
noisy dirt bike. Well, even though I was nothing more than a young shithead, I
was raised to respect my elders and that old fisherman looked like the kind of
man I wouldn’t mind becoming. So I turned the bike around and left. I knew he
was right and I learned me a lesson that day that stuck. Since that time I’ve
spent many a day trying to get from here to there unnoticed, silently and
leaving no sign. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Another thing that
struck me about the note was, well, the note itself. I’m old enough to remember
when writing on paper was the standard form of correspondence. I used to trade
letters with a handful of friends comparing hunting and fishing seasons,
sharing life’s joy and troubles, and just keeping in touch through the postal
service. We took a bit of pride in the note cards we found and mailed, and you
could tuck a prince nymph or grouse feather or photo inside for that something
a little extra special. When you wrote something it took some time, and
thought. It meant something because it was going to last awhile. Sometimes
you’d type them out on a typewriter if you remember what those are. When the
computers and printers came out we wasted plenty of paper trying to get the
printing on the right side of the card. But we kept at it and it all seemed
right. That was the beginning to what we have now, I suppose, but I can’t or
don’t keep up with today’s forms of electronic instant communication and if I’m
missing out on something, I’m ok with it so far. I’m a simple guy and when I
get to wondering if I need an upgrade in communications I recall the words of an
old Greg Brown song “I don’t need to read the news, or hear it on the radio. I
see it in the faces of everyone I know.” That sort of thing strikes close to
me.
A neat friend in
town laughs at my old cell phone and wonders if I’ll ever upgrade. Another
claims I am unreachable and thus unreached. If I got with the modern world I
could shoot messages, twitters and photos and whatever else to them daily,
maybe hourly. As it is I might see these folks a couple of times a month. To
me, face-to-face is worth the wait.
When I played music
with the band I had access to our Facebook page so I know what it is, but I
guess I’m a little too private to have a personal site. Anyway, I have that old
cell phone, and e-mail and even this blog. Heck, I’m so easy to reach I’m
amazed by it.
So I’m encouraged by
the note I received. I enjoyed the story that came with it and I didn’t need a
battery powered screen to read it. He could have easily e-mailed me the link, I
suppose. Don’t get me wrong, I know the internet is important and here to stay
and will keep evolving (how would I be doing this without
it?) but there’s nothing wrong with being a little old fashioned from time to
time. Maybe it will become popular to go retro and use the postal service
again, you know, what was old is now new? Whaddya think? Use more paper, cut
more pulp, make more grouse and deer habitat. Seems reasonable. And if you’re
looking for a bargain send an envelope across the country. It will get there in
a couple of days for the price of a stamp! Less than the cost of a cup of
coffee. That’s a deal.
OK, I’m kinda off
topic here, but it’s a deep, dark, cold, cold winter night and it affects us.
Stay warm.
