53

I’m not sure what you think about when you hear the number fifty-three. Maybe it was your nine-hole score at Cascades last week. Possibly you were a lineman in football…back in your glory days and your jersey number was 53? Just maybe you were born in 1953 or/or had a child born then and can quickly go back and recall ‘the good ole-days’? For me the number hits home because as you read this, maybe on June 11^th…well, it’s my birthday; and yes, I am 53 years old.

Depending on which side of 53 you fall…you may be wishing you could go back in time or just maybe you are thinking, “That is pretty old”! I guess I am going to take the optimistic view and realize that you are only as old as you feel…and frankly I don’t feel very old. I am married to one of the all-time great gals and we share a lot of good times together. I also still enjoy being very active and very healthy…for that I can honestly say I thank God daily.

I did take a walk down ‘memory-lane’ just a couple days back while on lunch; as those of you who have crested 50 will admit…seems like time does kind of whiz by. 1984 was the year I first taught, did my student teaching at our own Edgewood Junior High. A little over 30 years later and I am still going strong. I try to tell kids a couple of things; first, find a job that you are passionate about and it won’t feel like a job and secondly, enjoy what you do. Even those tough times. If you are able to accomplish both of these you probably will be able to endure most anything.

For me the most important thing is my love for the outdoors. I don’t have to fake it; each year I get to fly fish for various species. I get to chase a turkey around for a couple of weeks. Come the fall I really get fired up as it is once again time to head west with dad and chase ringneck pheasants around…usually behind a few good dogs!

All of this equates to a healthy and active lifestyle. Each year I get a few comments from folks I know that go something like this, “I don’t know how you get done all you get done”! I completely agree with the adage that the more you have to do…the more you get done. If you’ve been parked against a big Maple tree on a cool May morning while turkeys gobble then you know that missing this would be a crime. To follow a good bird dog through a field of waving grass somewhere out west is truly a sight that I don’t and won’t miss. To cast a popper tight against a stand of cattails…then wait as an explosion sends a big bass upwards might just be too much to let go by. Lastly, to float down a meandering stream casting to big ‘smallies’ that rush out from under logs and behind grassy banks…the rush as the line comes taunt and the weight of the fish and the current pulls tight…somehow I just can’t see missing a single drop of a moment like this.

53 has me thinking about the future. Hoping that like my dad and my Nebraska friend Norm…I am still going strong into my 80’s. I realize that at some point there will come a time when the natural flow of being outdoors will have to slow a bit. Frankly I am sure that my step has paused a tad since my early 20’s when I rushed head long up and down a good part of the state of Wyoming. What I do know is things start to change. A limit of birds just isn’t what it used to be; that moment this past year when Pappi (my German Wirehair) locked up on a big rooster not more than a hundred yards off of Nebraska Highway 12 is what sticks out in my mind. Taking the time to snap a few photos…the intensity of the situation evident in the dog’s eyes. The anticipation of the flush and the heft of a gamebird in my vest. Those were and are the memories time has taught me to take away.

Just this past month I made my way north on a Sunday afternoon, along with my buddy Frank Terkhorn. We stopped and fished a stream that most people just drive over. I was over halfway back down to the truck when I made a nice cast up and over a log. Threw a mend in my line which allowed the fly to pause for just a second directly adjacent to the ‘kill-zone’. The KZ is something I talk about often with newbies…as big smallies take up residence in spots where food will get funneled right into their laps. The next few minutes were epic as I tried to jump up on the log (but missed) came crashing back down and ended up jamming a log into my thigh…all before going head-first into the deep eddy that the water had created as it flowed by said log! Much like my favorite scene in A River Runs through It; I was able to keep my rod hand high and taunt to the fish. After a few seconds and a few gulps of water I righted myself and stood up…fish still in tow. A few hundred feet later I lipped a 17 inch smallie that had a rather pronounced gut. I snapped a few photos, dropped my waders, sat down for a second and marveled at what had just happened. I wouldn’t change any of this…but my first thought was, “I’m not young enough to go jumping up on logs anymore”. A few seconds later and what really struck me is that when I was young enough to jump up on logs…I wasn’t smart enough to have caught this big bass. Time and age are truly equal opportunity employers; there is no better teacher than experience.

So…I’m no longer a spring chicken. I’m certainly not over the hill either. What the future holds is truly a surprise…but this I do know…I will go forward, grab all of nature I can and continue to Enjoy the Great Outdoors.