Lessons from the Road

Be Silent

After my parents got divorced, heck – even before that, when there was a family get-together and all of us kids (cousins and the like) got underfoot, the eventual call went out to Milton from our collective parents to, "...get the kids out of here!" So he did. He would take us all on a long hike, talking about trees and animals we would see and life growing up in this part of town. Anything to keep us interested and not wanting to go back and get in the way again. He was pretty good at it too. I think he really loved the outdoors. It was the way he was brought up.

He also would take us fishing. He loved to fish. Although, with all the kids he taught (sometimes four of us at once) he didn't get much of a chance himself. He spent more time baiting hooks and teaching us to cast and wait for the strike.

I loved it. I loved fishing. I still do, even though I don't do it as much now as I want to. More than one time it would just be he and I out fishing. Especially after my parents' divorce. When I was very young, I was quite the chatter-box. There are those that say I haven't changed a whole lot. That may be true, but you'd have to ask someone else. I would ask him question after question. I would want to hear story after story. He would patiently answer the questions or tell me another story. One day though, he just said, "Billy! Be Quiet! You're scaring all the fish!"

"Scaring the fish?" I didn't know they could even hear me – much less be scared by me, but the rest of that fishing trip was done with a lot more silence. I knew he wasn't mad because he still smiled and put his arm around me and would tell me things that he thought I needed to hear. In the silence of the rest of that day I heard other voices. Various birds singing. The river babbling as it went by. The wind whispering to the tall grass. It was a good experience. After that, most of our fishing trips were done with a lot more peace and quiet. Something I am sure Milton appreciated – and something I learned to appreciate. We fished a lot through the years. Sometimes in complete silence. Sometimes laughing and joking the whole time.

Later on in life I got a job at a local newspaper to write an outdoors column. Basically they told me to go fishing and write about it once a week and they would pay me. (!!??!!) Let me just say... Best. Job. Ever. I always took Milton with me. He became part of my column more than once. "My Uncle Milton says..." found its way into a lot of my sentences. Many times, when we went, we would just sit and listen to the wind or the lake and just fish. Silently.

What a piece of wisdom that turned out to be. Be quiet and wait (whether it's for the fish to bite or for something else). Be quiet and listen (to other people or just to the quiet). There is serenity in silence. There is peace in just listening. This old world can get pretty crazy sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You could lose yourself in it if you don't take time once in a while and just... be silent.

* * *

Life's lessons from the road:

1. Keep going forward – one step at a time.

2. Don't start any trouble.

3. Sometimes, you just have to be silent.

That's damn right.