Chronicles of a Rocket Surgeon
Rocket Surgeon: (noun) A person with less-than-stellar aptitude. A mixture of "rocket scientist" and "brain surgeon", this phrase describes a person who is neither.
Summer envelopes us. The heat is most unbearable. The air conditioning is our haven. But Saturday we ventured out and attended a Fishing Derby at our city lake. It was sponsored by a local business and was a fishing derby for kids.
I’m not much of a fisherwoman, nor is J-Dub a fisherman. But Ashlynn is calm when she has a fishing pole in her hand. She shows much patience fishing.
We gathered up a couple of poles, a bucket, and a few creme sodas and joined about 200 other families to attempt to catch a few catfish or perch.
Boy were we lucky!!!
We found a semi-shady spot with a very small window for casting. So inevitably, we had a fishing line in the trees quite often.
And often times I wish
One would be lucky now and then
And catch a little fish.
I watch them statuesquely stand,
And at the water look;
But if they pull their float to land
It’s just to bait a hook.
I ponder the psychology
That roots them in their place;
And wonder at the calm I see
In ever angler’s face.
There is such patience in their eyes,
Beside the river’s brink;
And waiting for a bite or rise
I do not think they think.
Or else they are just gentle men,
Who love–they know not why,
Green grace of trees or water when
It wimples to the sky . . .
Sweet simple souls! As vain I watch
My heart to you is kind:
Most precious prize of all you catch,
–Just Peace of Mind.
