The Trout Fishing Waver

Trout Fishing

When I was a lot younger, a couple of friends and I did a fair amount of trout fishing. It was a constant ordeal trying to find a better place to fish. One day we turned on what we thought was the wrong road but kept going anyway. After a while, the asphalt stopped but the dirt road kept going and so did we. We went around a turn and there she  was sitting in her rocking chair and sure enough, she waved as we passed. We waved back and rode a little further and found a nice stream. We didn’t have long to fish but we caught probably 7 or 8 nice sized trout. This became our regular fishing hole. The lady lived in a small frame house that had never been painted. She evidently heated and cooked with a wood stove because next to the house was a dump truck load of split wood and on the front porch was a stack that she kept dry. She was sitting on the porch and waved almost every time we went fishing. After a month or so we decided to camp out for the weekend.

The Weekend Disaster

We had loaded up all our camping and fishing gear and off we went. After setting up camp we started fishing. After about an hour there came one of those afternoon showers. It quickly turned into a real gully-washer. We didn’t have any dry wood and had not even started a fire. It was almost dark, we were wet and cold so I decided to ride to the waver’s house and ask for a few pieces of wood. I knocked on the door, she came to the door but didn’t open it. She just asked who I was and what did I want. I explained our situation to her and asked if I could have some of her dry wood. She said to take what we needed but when we were leaving would we please restock her porch with wood from the big pile next to the house. I assured her we would put plenty on the porch when we left. By then it had quit raining and we were able to start a fire and dry out our wood. This relationship went on for several years. We would stop and talk for a minute or two every once in a while and she invited us in for coffee a time or two.

The Funeral

One day one of my buddies called and told me he had read in the paper the lady had passed away. Four of us  decided to attend the funeral, we felt like she was family. When we arrived at the funeral there was the four of us and one other man there. There were only the five of us attending the funeral. The man introduced himself and said he was her son and only living relative. I explained our relationship with his mother. He said that she talked about us every time he went to visit her. He also said we could use all the wood left. We thanked him, and the funeral and burial went on. When it was over we shook hands and left. We continued to fish there for several months and finally started looking for another place to fish. There was still plenty of fish but it just wasn’t the same. Without the lady waving every time we went by it just didn’t feel right. We finally found another place to fish but it did not have a waver. I guess that wavers are a dying breed.

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