"Died doing what he loved"

I read somewhere that statistics show that fishing is the most dangerous sport out there. More dangerous that football and skydiving combined.Hey!! Now there would be a fun sport.


Active Member
Charles Wright:

After Reading T'ao Ch'ing, I wander Untethered Through the Short Grass

Dry spring, no rain for five weeks.
Already the lush green begins to bow its head and sink to its

Already the plucked stalks and thyroid weeds like insects
Fly up and trouble my line of sight.

I stand inside the word here
As that word stands in its sentence,
Unshadowy, half at ease.

Religion's been in a ruin for over a thousand years.
Why shouldn't the sky be tatters,
lost notes to forgotten songs?

I inhabit who I am, as T'ao Ch'ing says, and walk about
Under the mindless clouds.
When it ends, it ends. What else?

One morning I'll leave home and never find my way back—
My story and I will disappear together, just like this.
When I first got back from Viet Nam, I worked for the Forest Service down in Oregon. Driving to the job site early one morning; as my crew reached the mouth of Dorena Reservoir, we were flagged down by an old guy. In his aluminum boat on the ramp, lay his friend of 60 years, who had died just as they were launching. He had survived his stroke just long enough to bid farewell.

That's when I started fishing, and I'm thankful to say I do have a few friends.

I hope my luck holds.