I think I’ve mentioned a few times here, over the years, that in many ways… my childhood was a mash-up of what was written by Norman, in A River Runs Through It, and slightly modernized by Stephen King’s “The Body” / Stand By Me. We fly-fished less than Norman, but got caught up in a lot of the same shenanigans, my brothers and I.

Our soundtrack / backpacking in the national forests of the High Rockies — mostly at the headwaters of the Arkansas… was definitely a AA battery powered tinny transistor AM Radio tuned to KOMA, out of Oklahoma City [mostly Soul and Funk]… the only station with the wattage to clear the Continental Divide.

And so, most of my very pro-environmental thoughts began… on those rivers, and in those canyons. The mountain-tops of 14,000 plus feet, too. Here’s Norman [slightly modified], then:

“…Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.

“Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn’t.

Like many fly fisherman in [the Rockies], where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the [Arkansas] River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are [mine, to you]….

I am haunted by waters….”

Smile — do go be excellent to one another — and be excellent to the mother of us all — the Earth. Onward.

नमस्ते