A Day Remembered
Summer cold with sleet and morning fog
started my day of August 7, 1942.
At fourteen I was with the men.
The climb from 6,200 feet to 8,400
on a trail not meriting that title.
Rocks, roots and boulder-filled gully wash.
Cope without breathing too loudly
was a rite of uphill passage.
Today I was with the men!
Staring at the pack horse’s butt
fast learning to read tail behavior.
Hold my breath or step gingerly.
The tail a tow rope to grab
when the climb became too steep.
Kicking impossible on that slope.
We were off to fish the forbidden,
feeling more like Robin Hood than trespassers.
Our fishing streams not for sale to the Texas rich.
The Sheriff of Nottingham’s men
tied down teaching dudes to ride tame horses.
The game warden was a Coloradoan.
Once over the summit and into the meadow
with small meandering stream and beaver dams,
a lasting definition of alone.
Tents pitched and supplies unloaded.
Horses hobbled and miracle fire started--
time to fish.
Can of peaches in one pocket,
can of Vienna sausages in the other.
New rod grey willow fly ready.
Wet and cold until the first cast
fetched a hungry silver blur.
No child’s shout, men catch in silence.
The grey willow wears out;
the royal coachman soon a bare hook.
Hunger bites on anything.
Creel full and wet grass packed;
time for show and tell.
Over the limit--catch only what you can eat.
Trout for dinner, breakfast, and lunch.
Catch a few more, eat lots more.
Pay dues to the rules.
Stumbling down the path
as hard as the climb.
Creel full and not one too many.
Station radio news came with the tank of gas.
Marines had successfully invaded Guadalcanal.
Kids from down the street were there.
The ride home in the 1936 Terriplane
became a classroom as the men talked of war.
Compared the mountain trip was a piece of cake.
The neighborhood men in the South Pacific
were deep into the tribal rites of manhood.
There were no lifts from a horse’s tail.
Boy to man, more a ladder than elevator.
Step by step in a long climb up a sandy beach
they won the battle and got the war forever.
Oh yes, I remember August 7,1942.
It was the day I learned life has no plateaus
Only more hills to climb. Thankfully
Doug Minnis
October 3,2010