The Tax Man Cometh

Remember when taxes were due on April 15th every year. Now you never know what day it will be. This year it’s tomorrow, April 18th.

I don’t know what determines the date, or who picks the deadline. But the 18th and a Tuesday just seems random.

Maybe it’s like Easter and depends on the equinox and full moons or ground hogs finally able to see their accountants. I don’t know but I needed the extra couple of days this year.

I actually got them done today. A full day early. I haven’t got word about them being approved yet but I gave myself an extra day.

I’m getting soft in my old age. My younger procrastinating self would be ashamed.

Lost Sleep


Today was my opportunity to get back to Salt Lake and take care of business, but more importantly to see the little lady.

I got gas this morning, pack my things, shuttled a truck and trailer from the dam to the take out point, and got out of town. I made it about 20 miles.

To make a long story short, I stopped my truck, turned it off for a minute, and then tried to restart.

No go.

The truck acted as if it were dead. A few people tried giving me a jump.

No go. The second gentleman and his wife who offered help also gave me a tow to a resort shop.

The service guys at the resort tried to help me figure it out. We didn’t get it started but now have parts on order and hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be back on the road.

Me and my honey are so very bummed out. I’m not sure when the next opportunity will come, hopefully next week, but i will try again.

Is there a lesson to be learned here? Maybe not by the break down but maybe this:

Last night I woke up at 2 a.m. and contemplated which way I should go home. Either through the town of Vernal, Utah which is a little bit longer; or through Wyoming which is shorter, but maybe more perilous.

I thought it over and over. Everybody here said Vernal. I wanted a shorter route and was thinking I would the risk the wilds of Wyoming.

Back and forth I went. Solid, known, tested wisdom of others vs. Self indulgence of getting there quicker. Finally I decided to go with the wisdom of others.

Eventually, I faded back to sleep.

My truck died exactly at the intersection of the two routes. I ended up not going either way. I wasted all that sleeping time worrying about it and none of it mattered.

Lesson? Don’t waste time on stupid stuff. Just decide to do the wise choice and be done with it.

Who’s the New Neighbor?

As I got ready to settle in for the night, I noticed I had some new neighbors. A herd of elk moved in across the road from me.

I stood in the snow watching them with awe. They grazed. Occasionally glanced over at me, but really didn’t me much attention. The younger ones chased each other around.

I noticed that I had stayed out too long watching them as i started to shiver and get cold.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me that it was I who was the new neighbor. This was their house. I’m the one outside of my element. They were having dinner and playing around.

Sometimes we think a little too highly of ourselves as humans. When actually we’re the outsiders looking in.

A Snowy Start

Hey kids!

Today was my first day on the job. For old man winter it was just another day at the office.

The snow came early this morning and just kept coming. Inch after inch. The small snow, the stuff that really piles up. As the old saying goes: Small snow- deep snow. Big snow- little snow. Or something like that.

After shuttling one trailer, it was time to turn it in. There was not to be any more business.

So I have sat in my trailer, watching the snow pile around me. I worked on some things that needed some attention, checked the internet for fan mail (haha), and generally cabin fevered the day away.

I’m expecting more of the same tomorrow and again on Wednesday.

It’s kind of hard to make a good first impression as a rookie when the seasoned veteran shows off.

How Quickly We Forget

Hey kids!

As I work down my list of things to pack before next weekend, I’m finding that there’s are some good hiding places for things I haven’t used for a while.

There was a time when my fly equipment was always within a arms length away. The rod hung on my wall, the vest was hanging inside the front entry coat closet, the net leaning against the wall just below it. Waders were packed neatly in a tub on top of my boots. All could be loaded into the vehicle in minutes, and off we would go to our favorite waters nearby. At least one day on the weekend and one evening during the week after work were thus engaged. Sometimes two. No matter the season.

Then came the gap years. When the fishing time dried up for a number of reasons. Long story(ies).

When I returned to my fishing ways, I left the fly fishing ways and began bass fishing. Striped Bass was my favorite and actually predated my flyfishing days when I lived near the San Joaquin and Sacramento River deltas in California. But also Smallmouth and Largemouth bass. I built up a new arsenal of equipment that took its prominent space and attention.

Now I’m headed back to flyfishing country.

All my flyfishing gear has retreated to back corners and dark recesses. It took hours to find much of it, assess its somewhat familiar but aged and dusty condition, and pack it up for next week’s journey.

There is, however, one fly rod that has escaped detection. I have the reel in hand but the rod, the long 9′ or possibly two pieces of 54″ each, is missing.

This was once my uncompromising friend. My partner in crime. My sometimes seemingly Raison d’etre.

In just a few short years I have allowed it to disappear from thought, care, and location. I have turned the house inside out and have yet to find it. It’s as if it never existed. Had my circumstances not changed to redirect my attention, I wonder if I would have ever paid any thought to it again?

I also wonder what else, and maybe even who else, of which or whom I might have likewise lost track?

An Unexpected Journey

Hey kids!

In September of last year (2022), I left my job of 30 years and headed into the unknown arena of unemployment.

A few months of playing with my boat, The Swede, and a week+ stint on the houseboat Miss Bountiful, and it was time to find new employment. I ended up at a plumbing supply warehouse. I spent four months there, until yesterday.

So today, the 25th day of March, I find myself again unemployed. At least until next Monday.

Out of the blue, I found an opportunity to go work on the Green River below Flaming Gorge dam. I’ll spare the details for now as I will be writing about these things in the future. But suffice to say, I will be working for a Flyfishing guide service. A dream job as you will.

The waters of the Green, particularly in this section, are Holy Waters in my canon of Life. It is my Mecca, to which I have not been for a few years nor practiced its religion of Flyfishing for even longer. I’m about to embark on what I hope to be a life-fullfilling adventure.

I’m 56, about to turn the odometer another click in a few months. Why not?

It wasn’t anything I saw coming. So why not even to the more??


And Then It’s Been Over A Week

The false alarms ceased.

Last Monday night, the 27th, my older sister, the second oldest of us kids, passed away.

Surrounded by those who loved her the most, and the ones she loved so dearly, the meds were shut off and she drifted off into a sleep and then away from us all.

I wasn’t ready for the feelings of loss. I wasn’t ready to see her kids and grandkids feel her loss. I wasn’t ready for the reality, the tears, and the funeral.

Between her death and her burial was the funeral of my uncle. It’s been a tough couple of weeks. I still not sure how to capture the emotions, to make them make sense. I can’t nicely tuck away the hurt, the anger, or the sadness. I also know life must go on. I really don’t want it to.

I hate that so many around me don’t have to deal with it. Even within minutes of learning of her death, I had to endure smiles and laughter around me. Almost too much to bear.

My sister is gone. Never to hear her voice. Never to read her crazy facebook posts. Never to finally spend those moments remembering back when. Back when we were kids. Back when we were young parents. Or now, now that were old parents.

I couldn’t find the words to share this past week. Forgive me. I still don’t exactly know the words to share now.

My sister was a hell raiser. She burst out from our Mormon upbringing and broke all the rules. She drifted in and out of our lives as trouble came and went in hers. She live in, what seemed to me, chaos but brought out of it five wonderful nieces and nephews for us all to share.

Her last days were good and bad, as the ICU goes. Would she make it, would she not? Some moments it felt like minutes left, others like she would be done with it all and be ready to go home and on to the next concert.

Her last night, however, was mine.

After sending the exhausted other people home to get rest, I promised to stay with her through the night and to stay up for her should she need anything, or should something change. Everyone left.

For the next several hours, my sister and I visited, just the two of us, in-between her sleeping episodes. We talked of old times, we spoke of new times, and we laughed at the stupid late night hokie westerns on the TV. She seemed strong, ready to beat this thing, and she made me believe during that long night that there would be others. There wouldn’t be.

In the early morning, things turned. She wasn’t quite as with it. The doctors words weren’t so encouraging. Her voice got lighter and her breathing got heavier.

That afternoon and into the evening, she said her good byes to everyone individually- although at times we weren’t sure if she thought maybe it was just good night she was syaing. She told the group, “I love you all.” And all sounded back, “we love you too”.

And then she was gone from our lives.

My uncle’s funeral was a short, graveside service only- as he requested. The military sent him off with a gun-fire salute, taps, and a presentation of the colors to his son.

My sister was memorialized two days later in tears but with laughter as we reminisced and shared our version of her with everyone else.

I don’t feel either summed up who these people were and what they meant to us. But how can any service do that?

It just doesn’t seem right that life without them just goes on.


Post # 4-007

False Alarm

I thought tonight was the time I would say my final good bye to my sister.

Her kids surrounded her, the setting sun shine through the window, and she seemed so weak and frail.

Yet it wasn’t to be this night.

My sister, always one to do things the way she would do them, rallied and got stronger as the evening wore on.

A false hope? Perhaps. But a reprieve from feelings and a situation I do not feel ready to tackle.

I’ll take it.

Post #4-006

Salmon-chanted Feeding

First a word. In this case “first”.

And then another, and another, and another. Before long, there’s a sentence. And then a paragraph, even if an improper one. And just like that, the writing has started all over again.

So much has happened since my last post, it would take like a year to fill it all in. So I won’t. However, this year won’t be so lucky, nor undocumented.

So welcome back to both you and me. I’ve missed you.

At the time of this writing, an uncle is finishing his run. Any day now the call will be received of his passing.

An unprecedented effort is currently being spent in the Pacific Northwest to preserve a particular Orca, J50, and the pod to which she belongs. Antibodies and dewormers are being injected. Live salmon are being released to secretly feed the young whale, and everyone involved is hopeful that the plight of this one whale turns people’s attention and care to preserving the ecosystem of our oceans.

Upstairs, new neighbors are moving in. A new start in hopefully a healthy apartment staircase community. One never knows at the start where the series of events leads. Will it be good, or will it be bad?

Where am I in my career? Definitely not the start. I’m too old to call anything a start.

The end? I sure hope not.

The time to relaunch? Yes. It’s time to pick up the race one more. I’m not Whale J50; but I’m hungry for salmon.



Post 4-001