That's My Story

Me and Joe posing in the FUBAR Cantina inside Tailhunters in La Paz

GIANTS AMONG US

Originally Published the Week of Feb. 4, 2011 in Western Outdoor News

               A few weeks ago before coming up to the states for the holidays I was in my office at the Tailhunter Restaurant in La Paz when I got a knock on the office door.  It was a guy about my age who very nicely asked,

          ” Hello.  Are you Jonathan Roldan?”

          I said sure. 

          “Would you mind meeting my dad.  He’s out here in the restaurant and we’re visiting in La Paz.  My dad is 92-years-old and he’d sure like to meet you. ”

          I followed him out to one of the tables where I was introduced to Joe.  Joe was a little frail, but it was clear he had been a big strapping man at one time. He shook my hand shakily but firmly.  His eyes still shone behind his wire glasses. 

          “I came all the way down here to meet you,” He smiled as he pumped my hand.  “I read Western Outdoors all the time and just wanted to tell you it’s an honor,” he said in a quiet sincere voice.

          It’s always flattering to know that folks read the column.  I eagerly I thanked him.. then noticed his black baseball hat. In big letters it said, “VETERAN WWII.” 

          It was my turn to swallow back and shake his hand enthusiastically. 

          “The honor is mine, Sir.  Thank you for your service.” I said reverently indicating to his hat.

          “Oh that…” his voice trailed off a bit as if he had forgotten he was wearing the hat.  “It was the Pacific.  A very long time ago.” 

          He looked down and away a bit breaking eye contact with me.

          “You’re welcome. No thank you needed.”  He said even more softly. 

          There was a momentary  pause.  He looked up as if he had just come back from someplace deep in thought…

          “May I take a picture with you?” he asked. 

          “It would be an honor to take a picture with YOU,”  I responded. 

          He shook my hand again.  I put my arm around his frail shoulders and someone snapped a picture.  History.

            As you read this, we are currently on our yearly “tour” of the Western U.S.  travelling each week…10 cities in 11 weeks… driving from one hunting and fishing show to the next hunting and fishing show.  While in our booth talking about fishing here in Baja, we see alot of veterans walking by us in the crowds.

            There are those with hats and patches from all branches of the U.S. armed forces.  Some from our most recent conflicts.  Others,  are older and grizzlier, more frail and fading from older actions. 

            There are those walking among the crowds of hunters and fishermen who wear no patches or emblems of their service, but I sense them in the crowd as well. We are all “outdoorsmen” at these shows, but among so many of these veterans, there’s a certain spirit that stands out and seems to bind them…even as they see each other in the crowd.  A quiet nod.  A knowing look to each other.  Even  from those not wearing any outward indications.

           I hear a softly spoken “semper fi” between two guys who pass each other and say nothing more.  Two others stubble-faced gentlemen give each other a knuckle-bump and I hear one say “ooo-rah”.

            It’s a special club.  Among the other hundreds and even thousands of hunters and fishermen in the crowded halls, there is a certain reverence accorded the vets.

            Today at the show in Washington, I shook the brittle hand of a man who wore a small patch on his jacket that said, “Veteran WW 2, Ardenne, Battle of the Bulge”.  As he walked up to my booth, there were several other guys already talking to me. 

            They all stopped talking.  Each of them in turn shook his hand.  One said, “My father was there in the Ardenne Forrest too.” 

            The old soldier said quietly, “90,000 of us were there in the snow.  Alot of us didn’t come out. I’m surprised anyone remembers anymore.” 

            To a man, each patted him on the shoulder or back as he slowly walked down the aisle.   No one else said anything.  

            We’ve been living now in Mexico for almost 16 years and sometimes we miss the traditions of home in the U.S.  But we try not to forget.  Presidents Day is coming up when we celebrate the executive heroes of our country.  To many nothing more than…hooray for another 3-day-weekend!

            Well, from Baja, here’s a shout-out to regular every-day heroes who still walk among us daily. They never won an election. Or chopped a cherry tree or gave a historic speech.  They never even hit a home run or dunked a basketball.  But they are bigger heroes on a grander scaled.

            Thanks for your service and sacrifice that allow so many of us the freedoms like travelling and fishing in Baja..to enjoy the outdoors or take our families for a hot dog and beer at a fishing show…the freedom to write goofy columns about  fishing like this one.   We take so much of it for granted.  The honor is ours.  I hope we never forget.   

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Jonathan Roldan has been writing the Baja column in Western Outdoor News since 2004.  He lives with his wife, Jill, in La Paz where they run the Tailhunter International Fishing Fleet  www.tailhunter-international.com  and also the Tailhunter Restaurant Bar on the historic La Paz waterfront.  If you’d like to get in touch with him directly, his e-mail is riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com or stop by the restaurant and say hi!