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| Fishing Shop |
Most that have crossed my path, at least in my younger
years, would say that I am painfully organized. Some have even called me anal
because of my penchant for having things in proper and predictable order. Now
that I’m older and retired that seems to be a bigger challenge for me but there
remains remnants of my ordered ways scattered throughout my life.
My shop is one of those remnants. Many have exclaimed when
seeing it for the first time, “This looks like a Cabela’s Fly Shop!” Pegboards
with fly tying supplies meticulously arranged according to type and color; cabinets
with drawers and shelves arranged in the same way. Any good cook will tell you
it not only helps but also is necessary to have all your ingredients arranged
in such a manner. Recipes are numerous and varied and knowing where to find the
necessary ingredients make creating a special dish efficient and rewarding
without unnecessary frustration. Fly tying is patterns (recipe) and materials
(ingredients) so just the same. It takes discipline to keep it that way but
over time one learns the extra effort is well worth it.
My seven-year-old grandchildren have been curious about my
shop from the first time they saw it with so many new things begging attention,
most of them with verbal instructions not to touch because of one hazard or
another. My own grandfather’s shop, a blacksmith shop not a fishing hobby shop,
was the same for me…so many tools and accessories with so many questions on my
part and so many warnings on my grandfather’s part. Recalling my own curiosity
about those things and the trouble that got me into I make sure access to my
shop for my grandchildren is only when I was present.
During their visit this summer one of the activities I had
promised them was lessons in fly tying.
Seven seemed a bit young but they were eager so we gave it a try. The
granddaughter caught on quickly and soon had produced three reasonable woolly
bugger facsimiles pretty much on her own. Her twin brother, who had been
patiently observing and waiting for his turn at the vise wasn’t bad either but
not such a good study as his sister. That wasn’t a surprise. Over the years of
attempting to teach fly tying the gals almost always caught on quicker to the
many maneuvers of thread and materials than the guys.
So while spending extra time with her brother I get this
question from his sister, “Grandpa do you have a box?” Without thinking of what
she might need a box for I pointed her to the corner of the shop where she
might find an empty box and continued on with her brother’s instruction. After
finishing a couple of flies he was done with fly tying and now more interested
in what his sister was doing. “What are you doing Amelia?” I asked as I looked
into a box half full of fly tying supplies tucked under her arm. “Shopping” she
said. “I want to shop!” exclaimed Everett. I was at the proverbial tipping
point. Should I put an immediate end to the damage to the uniformity of my shop
and have to deal with the “Amelia got to do it” rebuttal from my grandson or
what? The damage to the harmony on my
pegboard walls was already done so my response was, “Everett here is a bag you
can use.
The shopping continued while thoughts of “would my shop ever
be the same” screeched through my mind like finger nails on a blackboard. Hoping
to reclaim control over my avocation inventory I told the two of them that the
store would be closing soon and they needed to complete their shopping quickly.
Amelia’s box was almost full and she was ready to check out. Bringing her
purchases to where I sat she handed me an imaginary credit card. I pretended to
ring up the items in her box one by one. Her brother continued to shop from the
now almost bare pegboard walls. We talked about her upcoming trip and how she
would put her purchases to use. I thanked her for shopping at my store. This
little lady was all smiles. I was scanning the horizon for a way to end this benevolently.
“Oh no” I said, “your credit card has been denied.” She knew
what this meant because that had happened to me just before they arrived for
their visit and she had listened to me complain to her parents about the grief
that was causing me. “I’m sorry young lady you will have to put all this stuff
back until the bank can work this out for you.” Silence, a concerned expression
across her face and then, “Can we wait until tomorrow Grandpa, you promised we
could watch a movie tonight.” “Yes, Grandpa, you said we could watch a movie”,
chimed in her brother. I agreed tomorrow would be fine. On the way back into the
house for the promised movie, Amelia grabbed my hand gently and looked up at me
with those gorgeous blue eyes. “That was really fun Grandpa” I knew she wasn’t talking about the fly tying.
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