Note: The following On Second Thought by Editor Lynn P. Clayton first was published
in the March 31, 1994 issue of the Louisiana Baptist Message.
All right, where are they?
They were here the last time I was here. Nobody invited them. No one asked
that they be here with their judgmental attitudes. I didnt want them anywhere
around then. But oooh nooo, they had to be there.
Note: The following On Second Thought by Editor Lynn P. Clayton first was published
in the March 31, 1994 issue of the Louisiana Baptist Message.
All right, where are they?
They were here the last time I was here. Nobody invited them. No one asked
that they be here with their judgmental attitudes. I didnt want them anywhere
around then. But oooh nooo, they had to be there.
Today, I want them. Im looking for them. Im begging for them. Where
is my judgment this Saturday, as it was last Saturday?
Last Saturday morning, everything went perfectly. No problem getting my stuff
together. Nothing was forgotten.
When I get to the boat landing parking lot, not a single boat trailer litters
the view. The boat slips into the water, and the motor starts immediately without
as much as a sputter – across the superbly still lake to my honey hole.
I cant believe things are going so well.
Well, they dont. After throwing everything in my boat – except the
tacklebox – at the fish, not a single bass feels obliged to bite. Nothing.
Zip. Zero. From daylight to noon – and nothing. I am skunked.
Back across the lake to the landing.
The landing? It has become a mall parking lot. Trucks and cars and boat trailers
as far as the eye can see. And there are boats tied all around the boat ramp.
Loading and unloading my boat is embarrassing enough. I mean, most guys have
fishing rigs that cost as much as my kids college educations. My rather
pathetic aluminum, discolored flat-bottom boat with the homemade deck and 25-horsepower
engine represents another era. Its sort of like pulling into an RV camping
area in a ragged, worn-out pop-up camper to discover there is a self-propelled
Airstream convention going on.
These barons of the lakes watch condescendingly as I pull in, striving for
invisible, and what is the first question they ask? “Howd ya do?”
I hate when that happens.
The next Saturday, Im fishing away, still sticking with my honey hole.
Boats come, the guys fish awhile then pull in their trolling motors and take
off. A sure sign they are catching nothing. Im not either, but I aint
quitting. Those guys are going to be at the landing.
Finally. It is a nice one – runs about two-and-a-half pounds. Then, again.
Looks like the twin of the first. Then, a great fright from a smaller fish,
going about one-and-three-quarters pounds. At least, Im not skunked.
A trolling motor shut down with stray fishing line shuts me down.
Going out, I ask the men in the three boats sitting around, “Howd
ya do?” Fishermen talk that way.
They all shake their heads in sadness. “Nothing.”
Just wait until I get to that landing. Those mega-boat boys will ask, and I
will pull these babies out of my little ice chest. Just wait.
There is not a single fisherperson at the ramp. No one loading or unloading;
no one for as far as the eye can see.
Its not fair. A man with fish shouldnt have to pull into an empty
landing if he had to pull into a crowded landing without fish. It just isnt
fair. I want to be judged today.
Judgment itself isnt bad. You could almost say it is neutral. Judgment
is bad only if we have not done well. If we havent done well, we dont
want to be reminded, and we dont want to pay the price.
We want to be judged when we do well. We want our doing well affirmed, and
we want the rewards of being judged as having done well.
Of course, judgment is bad under all circumstances if the judge is unfair or
incompetent. We want a judge that understands what this business is all about
– one who has experienced what we have done, one who is more interested
in mercy than justice.
One of these days, there is going to be “The Judgment.” It can be
bad news. We know for sure that we have all come up short, everyone of us –
not fishing but in life. There is no way we can do well enough to look forward
to that.
But the Judge is not impartial. He knows what it is all about, and he has done
everything possible to make sure we can get a favorable judgment. He has done
for us what we cannot do – he has earned for us a favorable evaluation.
If … if we will accept it. Accepting what he has done for us is the only way
he will ever say, “Well done.”
But on this earth, favorable judgments are where you can find them. Maybe if
I ride around the lake awhile, one of those mega-boat boys with an empty live-well
will pull in to load or unload. And then, when they ask, “Howd ya
do?” …