Sunday, July 05, 2015

Richard hadn't read a book in months. He just didn't. He spent most of his time looking at the internet or watching TV shows. He drank a lot and smoked cigarettes. He remembered reading some stories by Hemingway. The Nick Adams stories. Nick liked to fish and he had been in the war. The war had taken a toll on Nick. Richard liked the stories. There was a lot unspoken pain but Nick was stoic and sought relief in nature and hard work.
Richard hadn't fished in years. The last time was several years back when he was living in Idaho. Ironic, perhaps, because that was where Hemingway lived when he blew his brains out with a shotgun.
Richard had taken his friends dog, Rocko, who he was watching while his friend was in San Francisco, to the Sawtooth mountains and they headed for a remote lake. Rocko loved the wilderness and it was beautiful in July in the mountains. The trees were incredibly green and the water in the rivers was ice cold and crystal clear. Everything seemed hallucinogenically hyper-beautiful.
They didn't see a single person the entire week they were in the mountains. The nights were cold and the dog didn't seem to sleep much at night. Richard would wake up and hear the dog outside barking and running after some critter. Richard hoped he wouldn't chase after a bear.
Richard's dad had taken their family camping many times when Richard was young. His dad had a fly fishing rig and would spend a lot of time cursing his sinking flys. Richard had a standard reel on his fishing pole and frequently used a lure called a super-duper that would spin around and attract the fish.
Later his father stopped backpacking and took up sailing. He bought a boat and moved to Mexico. Richard would fly down for a week at least once a year and bring whomever he was dating at the time. They had fun going to the playa, eating barbecued fish, painting watercolors, and later going out for dinner and drinks and then maybe dancing or just bar hopping, stumbling drunk through the cobblestoned streets back to the house.
But those days were done. His dad had senile dementia, they sold the Mexico house, and put him in an assisted care home in Mountain View. The home complained because he would climb out the window and go for walks.