Coming clean

Cant’ go fishing because the Semana Santa group is beginning to take over the whole beach for the next 4 days. While I’m waiting I worked on my boat a little. I was so proud of it I sent a photo to Pescador – he saw right through me and pointed out that the shine wouldn’t last long with my record. Since he might be right I dug up this old piece about being picky-clean.



Coming Clean

It won't be necessary to name names. You know who you are. We sure as hell know who you are; we know everything about you. Perhaps this is the perfect time for somebody to speak up, tell the truth, even if it hurts.

We see the silent little shudders you make when you see beach sand all over the bottom of our boats. We feel the hair going up on your neck when you spy some dried fish blood on the transom that somebody missed. You feel so superior when you notice that some of our rods, reels show some corrosion.

It's the same way at the house, the garage, when you look at our tools, our yard, trucks, cars. That sort of "isn't that awful" look and posture of disdain. You can't help it. You can't help being neat, fastidious any more than you can keep from breathing. Some of you may even think being neat is a kind of "manly" thing. Most of us think it's a feminine trait; we see you as being sensitive and subjective, sometimes judgmental. Usually you're quiet about your disrespect, your pity.

You hate us. Admit it, you think we're "slobs". You're thinking "that guy really doesn't care about his equipment/truck/fishing gear. Maybe he doesn't even see the dirt, the rust. Maybe to him it's invisible. God, I couldn't live like that."

We are Hate Free. We exist to make you feel superior. And we DO know the difference, we see everything. We just don't go all to pieces about it. We see it. That black/purple spot in the bed of my truck is some marlin blood from a big striper I caught two years ago. Oh, I could really get down, pick at it, scrape it up but I haven't because when I see it I can almost relive the day. There's a little black thing that looks like part of a big spring lodged in the hinge of the tailgate of the old Ford. It's not a piece of metal, it's part of a tentacle of the biggest damned squid I ever caught; more than six feet long, probably 70 pounds; 1997 or 98 I think it was. These are not just spots, they're memory markers....wash them away and you lose all the precious memories of the adventure.

While you're watching THIS OLD HOUSE on TV, we're watching BILL DANCE FISHING. While we're kickin back, relaxing, you're on a tear. You have somehow hooked your self-esteem up to just how clean and neat your things are, your life is. You hustle about keeping things shipshape; still carrying all that hate, disdain around with you.

All your spotless trucks (you washed the paint off them), your polished reels, gleaming lacquered rods, your shining boats and motors set us apart, draw a deep line in the sand that you can feel good about. You can fail in business, be a failure as a parent, a husband, a neighbor, fail to find the freedom and joy of retirement , BUT, as long as all your stuff shines you can feel good about yourself --- all because of us.

On the economic front, you spend more money on cleaning solvents, soap, wire brushes, etc. We hold up our end at a higher level, forced to buy new things, the old ones fall into disuse because of deferred maintenance. In fact, we are more likely to have two of the same tools; neither one works well because they are rusty -- you have only purchased one and it still shines -- there's a whole world of merchandising out there that we alone created. We are undoubtedly the inspiration for all "two for one", "buy one, get one free", and "bonus" sales.

So there you have it. Our sanity is intact, our leisure hours are each, a full sixty minutes. Our knives are not quite as sharp as yours but can cut bait and line. We'll thank you to remember that, if and when your frustrations overboil. You couldn't mount much of an organized military campaign against us -- too busy putting everything in slots, neat little rows, codifying, color-coding, sealing, establishing re-order protocols.

As a piece of friendly advice, (long overdue, if you ask me), when you have everything you own sealed, tagged, filed and lined up; when you can't find one more solitary thing that needs de-rusting, painting or polishing, when your anxiety is at it's all-time peak, spill a little something on the floor (some blood from a big old marlin, if you've got it).....then just leave it.

[Edited on 4-9-2009 by Osprey]

I have seen the storage closet where Osprey keeps his fishing gear; I know the truth !
He is not one of the "haters".

I envy those guys; just always have better things to do.

Type "A" all the way.
Could a recovery program be called TAA (type A anonymous)?
Maybe I'm a type A-, since I can get things hammered dirty, I just gotta get it buffed out for the next usage.

But for sure, before I left for work at 6AM, I check the muffler bearings for proper grease level and topped off the blinker fluid.
There was a tiny spot of bird poop on the windshield that I left that the wipers didn't catch.
Am I getting well????