I went fishing with six new friends on July Fourth
“Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have longer days?" — Santiago, (“The Old Man and the Sea,” Ernest Hemingway); it is a pondering question for me.
As I travel further down this path toward old age, I have a deeper appreciation for that line above and those longer days.
“The Old Man and the Sea” is one of my favorite books. It is a story about an old man, Santiago, and his young companion Manolin who lived in a Cuban fishing village.
The old man has been out to fish for 84 days and each day his fishing net has returned empty.
When I go fishing out into deep blue waters, I often think of Hemingway’s classic, and at almost 76 years old, I’m beginning to understand better that aging dilemma of Santiago in this story.
July 4 was for sure a celebration of this country’s independence, but it was also a day where my new friend “Fonzie” had invited me to go fishing with him and five members of his clan.
We left his residence at 3:30 a.m. on our way to an Annapolis harbor, and then out to the bay to see what fish may be awake and hungry in the deep waters.
Some grub and cold drinks were on ice for us and an earlier sleep soon gave way to a beautiful sunrise over the bay. All members of our party were staring in awe at that cloud dotted sky; their colors, dark waves and a cool breeze were waltzing across the water to embrace us.
Pictures of this beauty were captured by iPhone.
Our journey out into the bay would take an hour and a half to get to our first fishing hole; rockfish were on the agenda and we were hoping to catch our limit, but as I thought of Santiago’s 84 trips without fish, I was going to embrace this moment and that view of heaven’s nature; any fish caught would be a bonus.
As our fishing party enjoyed the ride out into the bay, some snacks were munched on; sandwiches, cantaloupe and melon were on the menu.
All of my new friends spoke Spanish except one, but it mattered little to a Dargan boy; friendships translate much further beyond any language barrier. I’ve been to many places where I’ve learned new words, and today would be no different.
And if you ever go fishing, there is a universal lingo on how to have a good time; one of my friend’s brothers pulled a sandwich from his bag and offered it to me. I smiled, accepted the gift and thanked (gracias) him; another man (hombre) sliced some cheese and gave me a piece; drinks were pulled from the cooler and cookies, cantaloupe and melon were consumed.
Breaking bread together always represented something most special to me. My grandmother Gen always shared her sparse offerings with many locals who appreciated her friendship.
Two small sons (hijos) were along for the ride and their dad anointed them with sunscreen; the one would receive his first lesson of fishing.
Soon the fish would be hungry too. After a bit more relaxing, we arrived at our destination. The captain turned off the engine, the first mate baited our fishing lines, and we awaited the arrival of the rockfish.
It wasn’t long before the first line became taut and the announcement of “fish on” was made; the fishing pole was grabbed by the first hombre and the fish pulled into the net. Several more were caught and we had our limit; even the old Dargan boy snagged a keeper.
After catching our limit of rockfish, we then proceeded up the bay to another hole where a good many white perch were caught, and one of the young hijos practiced his new skill of fishing as he pulled several small of the tasty fish into the boat.
Some kind reminders of humanity were on display.
Later as I returned home that day, I attended another event on the top of a mountain in Clear Spring where my friend Sam Barnhart hosted a July 4 party; Jack Myers, a 101-year-old World War II veteran, was an honored guest who I introduced to the large gathering.
Freedom, for sure, is something very special to those who have it. “God has blessed me,” offered Jack Myers.
And I learned a few Spanish words this day too:
“El hombre no puede vivir solo de pan.” (Man cannot live by bread alone).
It was a mighty fine fishing trip and 4th of July “to boot.”
Freedom (Libertad) is priceless.
Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for The Herald-Mail.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: I went fishing with six new friends on July Fourth