Michael

A couple of years ago, my grandfather (mother’s father) passed away. As always, it is a difficult time for the family. I choose to remember my grandfather through an experience I had as a young child. I wrote the following poem while on the plane traveling to his funeral. The setting for the story is southwest Louisiana on the Calcasieu River.

My Grandfather

I remember warm, summer mornings.
The river moving silently towards the Gulf
The sound of fish jumping and splashing
The smell of the trees while the moss moved slightly in the breeze

I remember drinking coffee, thickly laden with sugar and cream to appeal to my young taste buds.
Being excited on this day, as I was going fishing with my grandfather
It was early as we loaded our few supplies in the small boat.
The mist ever so slightly rising from the still water of the canal
We step into the boat.
The sounds amplified by the stillness surrounding us.
We push off and move towards the river.

I remember the water making gentle lapping sounds on the metal boat.
My grandfather starts the small outboard motor when we reach the river, heading
upstream in search of fish.
The wind gently blows in our face, helping to remove the last hold of sleep.
Very few words pass our lips.
That’s okay.
This is a time for experiencing, not talking.

I remember the smell of fresh river water.
The magnolias blooming in proliferation along the shore
The lush green foliage lining the river banks
The sound of our boat pushing through the current

I remember stopping at a log jutting out from the shore.
My grandfather tells me there are white perch here.
He knows all of the special spots where fish can be found.
How does he know, I silently think in wonderment?

I remember learning to bait my hook.
How to drop the line in just the right spot
The excitement of seeing the cork bob up and down as a fish tentatively tested the bait.
My grandfather suddenly telling me to pull up
I hooked the fish!
We stay a little while.
Our bond growing as we catch fish together.

I remember moving upstream again towards Indian Bayou.
How the water narrowed in this primal place
Feeling both fear and excitement at the same time
Feeling safe because I was with my grandfather

I remember lush grass growing along the banks
Tall cypress, oak and magnolia reaching across the water
The stillness and silence
Drifting slowly now
Using only paddles to propel us forward
We were after bigger fish in this quiet area, like bass and catfish

I remember my grandfather casting his line in just the right spot among some water reeds.
Suddenly the water is foaming as a large bass has swallowed the lure.
I watch my grandfather effortlessly reel in the fish.
No spoken words spoil the moment.

I remember
Grandson connecting with Grandfather
Grandfather connecting with Grandson
Both of us connecting to the beauty and majesty of the natural world surrounding us

I remember eating the fish we caught later in the day
Expertly grilled by my grandfather
Smelling the aromas wafting heavily from the open fire
It was the best tasting fish ever!

I remember my grandfather
Starting me on the path of learning stillness, patience, and being in the right spot at the
right time
Learning to fish and how to maneuver a boat
Learning to see the world around me and not just look
Learning to focus on the moment and fully appreciate the experience unfolding around
me.

This is how I remember my grandfather.

Michael