Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

My First Trout Goes to . . .

By Sisti

About five years ago, I stopped in to visit Uncle Leroy and Aunt

Margaret.

Aunt Margaret was in her late eighties, and her brother, Uncle Leroy, was in

his

early eighties. They lived together in the small town of Indian Lake, New

York.

They're not my blood relatives, but in an Italian family, the titles of

" uncle "

and " aunt " are given out like the queen of England gives out knighthoods.

It's

a privilege earned through love and respect.

During my visit, I told Aunt Margaret that I was going fly-fishing at

the

nearby Indian River later that night to catch some browns. She casually

mentioned that it had been awhile since she had eaten a trout, since Uncle

Leroy

didn't go fishing anymore. Although Uncle Leroy had slowed down in his

later

years, he still got around pretty well. Uncle Leroy had taught me about the

woods. He taught me how to hunt, how to fish and how to trap. He taught me

about beavers, red squirrels, chipmunks, hawks, deer, foxes and all the

other

animals that live in the woods.

But of all the sports Uncle Leroy taught me, fly-fishing became my

addiction. When Aunt Margaret mentioned she hadn't eaten trout in a long

time,

my first thought was an old saying, " Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a

day.

Teach a man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime. " Well, it was now

pay-back

time for all those lessons Uncle Leroy had given me.

That night I went down to the Indian and caught and kept two brown

trout.

One was fourteen inches, and the other was sixteen. I cleaned the fish and

took

them to Aunt Margaret, who was thrilled. All she said was " Goody, goody,

goody! " And I got a huge hug to boot.

That simple gift started a ritual that lasted for three more years.

Aunt

Margaret always got my first trout and Uncle Leroy got my second one. After

a

few months, Uncle Leroy casually mentioned that the larger trout were too

much

fish for him and Aunt Margaret to eat for dinner, and he thought that the

small

ones, between eight and ten inches, were even tastier. It was easy enough

for

me to fix that problem, and so my " New Rules of Catch and Release " were to

keep

only browns between eight and ten inches; I returned everything else to the

river.

I then thought of other elderly people in town who probably hadn't

eaten

fresh trout in years, so I caught a few extra fish during one of my evening

trips. In the morning, I visited three of my family's old friends, all of

whom

were widows who had known my parents. I asked each of them if they would

like

trout for dinner. Each of the ladies, all eighty-something, thanked me

profusely. They each shared that they hadn't had a trout since their

husbands

had passed away years before. And so the ritual expanded; I now had six

girlfriends in town, all thirty years older than me.

A sad day came three years later when Aunt Margaret got sick and left

us.

Her family asked me to give the eulogy at the church service. I was never

prouder than to have the honor of saying good-bye to a lady as grand as Aunt

Margaret.

Even with my aunt's passing, the fish ritual continues, but now Uncle

Leroy

gets my first trout. This last July, I returned to an Adirondack pond to

camp

overnight and fish for brook trout. I caught three brook trout and took

them

with me when I went to see Uncle Leroy on a Sunday. His eighty-sixth

birthday

was the next day, and I wanted to surprise him with three fish instead of

his

usual one.

Uncle Leroy wasn't home when I got there, so I put the fish in his

refrigerator and left. I didn't need to leave a note - I knew he'd find

them,

and he'd know who put them there. In Indian Lake, you never lock your door

because you never know when someone is going to sneak into your house and

put

trout in your refrigerator.

Monday morning before going to work, I stopped uptown to wish Uncle

Leroy a

happy birthday.

" Are you going to your nephew's house for a birthday dinner tonight? " I

asked.

" No, he didn't call so I'll probably eat at home tonight, " Uncle Leroy

said

in a dejected voice. I felt badly that I couldn't have dinner with him on

his

birthday, but I had other commitments that night.

" So you have nothing special to do tonight? " I asked.

Uncle Leroy put his head down for a moment and thought. Slowly his

head

rose, and he had a big smile on his face.

" Yep! I got something special for tonight. I got me three brook trout

in

my refrigerator for supper. That's special, ain't it! " he beamed.

I felt good, for I was able to give back to my aging uncle everything

he

had given to me over the years. Now my old adage has become: " Teach a man

to

fish, and he'll give you trout for the rest of your life. "