• Entrepreneurial Stories
  • The Content Studio
  • Agency Services
  • About
    • About Dave
    • About Melissa
    • About Rob
    • About Linda
  • Our Skunk Works
    • 2 Guys and a River
    • Megillicutti
  • Big Thoughts
CZ StrategyCZ Strategy
Call Us  |  630.248.9129
  • Entrepreneurial Stories
  • The Content Studio
  • Agency Services
  • About
    • About Dave
    • About Melissa
    • About Rob
    • About Linda
  • Our Skunk Works
    • 2 Guys and a River
    • Megillicutti
  • Big Thoughts
meaning and joy

Meaning and Joy at the End of Days

November 11, 2019 Posted by David Goetz Blog 2 Comments

Meaning and Joy at the End of Days

meaning and joy at the end of days

In the final scene of the classic fly fishing movie “A River Runs Through It,” the narrator, Norman Maclean, is alone on the river, trying to tie a knot.

He is old now. His brother Paul has been gone for five decades. His wife, gone. Most of his friends, gone.

The narrator says:

Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead, even Jesse. But I still reach out to them. Of course now I’m too old to be much of a fisherman. And now I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn’t.

But when I’m alone in the half light of the canyon, all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories. And the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four count rhythm. And a hope that a fish will rise. Only the river, which has flowed since the beginning of time, remains.

The river is the one constant in a long and full life, one of joy as well as tragedy and loss.

The Old Man and His Browning

Norman MacLean’s end of days are a lot like those of my father, whose hunting and fishing friends are now mostly all gone.

My father is 85 and still hunts and fishes, even without his friends. I think of Walter, who hunted upland game and waterfowl with us for 30 years until his wife Laurine died.

Dad, my brother Matt, and I struggled to forgive him for putting away his Browning shotgun for good after she passed. He said he quit hunting because he had no one to clean his birds. That sounded so sexist to my post-modern ears, but it was Walter’s old world attempt to describe his sorrow.

Walter was only in his early 80s when Laurine died and he quit hunting. Walter passed away in a nursing home about a decade later at 93, his lightweight 20 gauge shotgun (made in Belgium) never to be fired again. The firearm now rusts in its case with a son who doesn’t hunt.

Physically, Walter could have hunted for most of the rest of his eighties, but he stopped doing what he loved.

Dad and I dropped by the nursing home for a few minutes about a year before Walter died. He towered over us in his hunting years, but now was diminished in the wheelchair. The TV blared as we regaled him with stories from the last hunt. He said he was looking forward to seeing Laurine.

Walter’s older brother Albert also lived into his nineties – and also hunted with us until his late eighties. Albert called it quits when he said the geese flying over him appeared as shadows, his eyesight failing. We didn’t argue with him, though he still had no problem knocking down birds. But it was time.

Albert lived for another five years after he stopped hunting. Right before he died, he told his son, who was 70 at the time, “When you turn 80, start another business. You’ll have more than enough time to watch TV when you’re my age and can’t leave the nursing home.”

Walter and Albert are now long gone, as are most of my father’s friends. My father scans the newspaper obituaries every day, something those who are left behind often do. I spent a two-week sabbatical with him and my mother in North Dakota several years ago. During the two weeks, he would look up from the paper and say, “Do you remember _______? He just died.”

If you get to live long enough, those you love pass on one after another until one day you discover that you are alone, in the half light of the canyon, astonished at the brevity of life. You have to decide whether to fly fish when only the river beckons, and the voices of others have gone silent.

Giddy at 80

Several years, I got a call from my Dad. He had been out deer hunting, alone.

He said the November Dakota wind was howling up to 50 and 60 sixty miles an hour, the temperature plummeting thirty degrees in a couple hours. On his way home from the hunt, a large flock of mostly snow geese was circling a harvested field along the gravel road, trying to land against the wind. My father stopped the truck, grabbed his Browning shotgun and three shells, crawled and walked in the ditch for about 50 yards, crossed the road, shot three times, and knocked down eight geese. Alone.

He had just turned 80 several months earlier. On the call with me a couple hours later, he was giddy, emotional, like a boy who just had shot his first goose.

There is much to be said about the fellowship of hunting, the late mornings after the hunt in the coffee shop, the repetitive Ole and Lena jokes that make you groan, the story-telling while picking up the decoys after a slow morning.

But there’s joy in the hunt itself or in the act of netting a 17-inch brown trout in late fall.

Norman Maclean may be alone on the river near the end of his days, but there’s no place for sadness.

Big Flies and Joy at River’s Edge

I watched “A River Runs Through It” again not long ago, and the final scene, like always, slayed me. I fired off an email to my fly fishing podcast partner Steve saying we need to promise each other that whoever remains on earth last will continue to carry on our fly fishing tradition, until like Albert and his failing eyesight, the trout become only shadows.

Steve responded, “I don’t see myself ever stopping. We will just have to fish big flies! And stay near the trail head. Wouldn’t it be cool to fish together in our 80s if God grants us both that much time?”

Yes it would.

And if for some reason I am granted days greater in number than those of my friends, and my kids are too busy to meet me at the river, I will walk the edges of the river alone.

What remains when the only companion left is the river itself is the joy of fly fishing that comes with the hope of a rising fish.

Tags: end of lifefinding joyfinding meaningfly fishing
2 Comments
Share
28

About David Goetz

David Goetz is president of CZ Strategy, a messaging and marketing agency. He is one of the "2 Guys" of the "2 Guys and River" podcast and blog. He is also the author of "The Fly Fisher's Book of Lists," "Native Tongue: Translating Your Message into the Language of Prospects" and "Death by Suburb: How to Keep the Suburbs from Killing Your Soul."

2 Comments

Leave your reply.
  • Scott Fulton
    · Reply

    November 12, 2019 at 10:48 AM

    Wow! I have just turned 66 and am retiring from my “day job” at the end of the year. This post is a reminder that there is a lot of life left, Divine willing. Thank you!

  • Alan Amling
    · Reply

    November 12, 2019 at 2:32 PM

    What a great reminder that the length of our life is not in our control, but how we live it certainly is.

Leave a Reply

Your email is safe with us.
Cancel Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Recent Posts

Celebrating 20 Years in 7 Sayings

Celebrating 20 Years in 7 Sayings

April 23, 2020

"It takes a Thousand Days" - is a Davidiom, a common saying of CZ Founder Dave.

Alla’s Lessons on Hardship and Hope

Alla’s Lessons on Hardship and Hope

March 19, 2020

While trapped in a particular moment in time, Alla reminds us about the future.

Breaking My Brand Promise

Breaking My Brand Promise

March 4, 2020

Al Ries, the great marketing mind, said that marketing is a battle of perceptions, not products. He's so right.

Your Comments

  • Jennifer Cullers on I Don’t Want to Be Joanna Gaines I would be depressed living in one of the houses…
  • Torsten Pieper on Celebrating 20 Years in 7 Sayings Happy anniversary, CZ, Melissa and Dave! And many thanks for…
  • Lucinda Armas on Celebrating 20 Years in 7 Sayings Happy 20th Team CZ! Melissa--thank you for curating the Davidioms.…

Contact Us

We're currently offline. Send us an email and we'll get back to you, asap.

Send Message
CZ Strategy is a messaging and content marketing agency located in the Chicago area.
Make Your Move ... Today
Our Homestead

CZ Strategy
209 East Liberty Drive
Wheaton, IL 60187

630.248.9129

dave@czstrategy.com

czstrategy.com

From Our Twisted Mind
  • Celebrating 20 Years in 7 Sayings
  • Alla’s Lessons on Hardship and Hope
  • Breaking My Brand Promise
  • The Marvelous Obligation of a Leader
Work that makes us happy

Slide
Prev Next