Fishing: Losing a Partner

She was born in Louisville, Kentucky some short 55 years ago. Raised the daughter of an avid outdoorsman, she grew up on dove, rabbit, and a lot of bluegills, bass, and crappie. Charlene learned to fish with a canepole at the side of her father, spending two weeks every summer, fishing for perch and northern pike just outside the town of Cedarville, Michgan.

While she loved to fish, her main thrust in life was always as a care-giver, whether it be to her family or others in need. She graduated from St. Louis University as a Physical Therapist, but then joined a red-headed fishermen on their new "Ship of Fate". It was here that her real colors of devotion to her husband and family became obvious.

She loved being on and in the water. Two weeks into her married life, we spent a week in the Land-Between-the-Lakes in SW Kentucky with my family. She wanted to take her trusted canepoles to fish with, but her new "know-it-all" husband had better equipment: real stuff like Mitchell 300抯 and Ambassador reels. The cane poles stayed home. After three days of being flooded by torrential rains and no fish, we left, driving by the launch ramp one more time. One small boat with two old fishermen was just pulling in with a stringer of bass that turned us green with envy. Asked how they caught them, they reported that they just used canepoles and worms in the treetops. Charlene never said a word, but she had that "I told you so!" smile on her lips.

She did whatever it took to make her family happy. As a newlywed, she followed me down an old creek in Southwestern Ohio in the middle of the night looking for frogs. The snakes and spiders that she despised didn抰 bother her that night.

Unquestioning, she followed me to Western New York for my first job, while putting her career on hold. When she was six months pregnant, she went along on a camping trip some 500 miles north of Toronto to Lake Abitibi and the Ghost River. Hanging over the bow of our small boat she would scan the waters in front and yell "log!" so we could pull up the motor and not shear another pin on the propeller. After reaching the calm deep waters adjacent to the big lake, she would apply her fishing skills and catch all she wanted. She put up with a lot on that trip. I can still see her retreating into the woods after my father announced that we were having fried trout for breakfast.

Eventually, after having three little fishes of our own, we found ourselves back in the Midwest, but still looking for water. Once again, placing all her faith in me, we packed up once more and moved to Vero, her own "piece of heaven".

With the kids now in school, Charlene could turn back to her care skills. While she watched me fish, she took care of her patients. Every so often, the two of us would get time to fish. Now, it was never enough.

A marriage is similar to a fishing trip. It begins with great anticipation and planning. Once underway, changes are made to produce the best results. Sometimes you are lucky enough to just relax and just drift with currents enjoying your partner and the surroundings. Sometimes you both have to paddle like mad just to stay afloat. Afternoon thunderstorms can arise, but as in marriage, you take cover, ride them out, and wait for the sun to reappear. With any luck, the two of you will get to enjoy a beautiful sunset at the end of the day, reminiscing of things caught and lost. Sometimes the day ends much to quickly, yet always leaves you with memories of a lifetime, loving memories of Charlene, my wife and partner.

BY: CAPTAIN JACK JACKSON