The first men that our Saviour dear
Did choose to wait upon Him here,
Blest fishers were; and fish the last
Food was, that He on earth did taste:
I therefore strive to follow those,
Whom He to follow Him hath chose.
From Issac Walton's The Compleat Angler
In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed.
Alexander Pope Windsor Forest
John Haley pushed Du Doan into the waters off Montrose Harbor for a 'prank.'
Mr. Doan drowned. I watched the news last night and listened to Haley's attorney try to eel his client out of troubled Justice that awaits Haley. The lawyer even tried to throw in the 'police card.' What a piece of work.
Mr. Doan sought the quiet and reflective activity out and away from the hate that Haley seems to mark down as 'some of these fishermen look hot and need to go for a swim.' You called the tune John Haley - now dance to it.
Mr. Du Doan lived through horrific experiences in Vietnam and came to find peace in America. He could fish - untroubled and find friendship with men who understood the beauty of the water-hunt. Mr. Doan is at peace with God.
Mr. Haley wriggles with a hook through his gills. I hope that it is long and troublesome bounce for Mr. Haley. Having fished the Kankakee River, Lake Michigan and the small lakes of Indiana, I understand that even if a dangling fish spits out the hook, it ends up floating on its side on the calm and peaceful waters.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Posted by pathickey at 5:01 AM