That's My Story

SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON – published Nov. 2004 – Western Outdoor News

I just got off the water about 20 minutes before writing this column. I still have dried salt spray on my arms and sand under my nails as I sit in the office looking out through the palm trees and onto the bay in the Sea of Cortez. I guess I should be bummed. Our boats didn’t catch many fish today which is normally a pretty good start for putting me in a less than amiable mood. I mean…I know I shouldn’t, but I can take it personally when nature does what nature does and sometimes lifts it’s leg on my parade. But I’m sitting here grinning and wanted to to tell you about some incredible guys sitting down there by the pool right now.

No doubt, Baja sure gets it share of desert rats, pirates, scallywags, rogues and banditos. I probably fall into a few categories myself of those of us running to or running from (take your pick or fill in your own) nightmares, dreams, girlfriends, wives, lovers, IRS, work, tight shoes, fortunes, therapy, etc., etc. But, I’m looking down from my upstairs office down towards the beach and pool at a group of guys who sure don’t seem to fit that mold. They’re circled around one of the hotel lounge tables and are in far too good a humor considering we sure didn’t catch many fish today. I hear a lot of laughing and see a lot of smiles.

You see, these guys aren’t my “clientes tipicos.” (typical clients). They’re all ministers. That’s right…full turbo padres. Card-carrying collar men. Pulpit preachers. I’m not given to doing a lot of philosophical meanderings, but in the biblical sense, these guys are the real deal…the real “fishermen” and every year they come here…fish or no fish…and seem to have the time of their lives.

I’ve always enjoyed their visits down here, but it wasn’t until I fished with one of them once on a day when I had no other bookings that it was all explained to me and why they never really tried too hard when it came to fishing . . . or really cared.

“Jonathan, in our work, there is no real “day off.” There are always phones and responsibilities. We are always on-call. We all enjoy our work and take it very seriously like anyone else does with their jobs. But ours is also a physical as well as spiritual job. Even more so, we’re under intense scrutiny all the time. People forget that before we were “men of the cloth” we were just ordinary guys who like football, tell jokes, go barefooted, drink an occasional beer, and yes…even pull a finger and laugh about it. You’d be surprised how many members of our respective congregations would be shocked to see us in shorts and tanktops right now.”

For that he said, no amount of fish or lack of fish could change a great vacation that allowed them to be “just guys” again. “We get to be more than that. We get to be boys! We can dangle our toes in the water and do belly flops into the pool. We can be google-eyed at dolphins and laugh when a seagull drops a present on a buddy. We can laughingly point blame at the other guy when we hear a (funny body noises). We can decide not to come in for dinner when it’s time to eat and sing aloud whatever song comes into our heads. For just a few days we can be Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer again and, best of all, we get to do it with our best friends. What could be better?”

Scallywags indeed! Pirates of the first order. Becky Thatcher beware! I always try to remember that on days when the fish don’t bite or the weather doesn’t cooperate. This is supposed to be play! Amen, Padres. Amen.

That’s my story
Jonathan