Cornelius the Fisherman
I met Cornelius this evening at our local Surprise Park. He was fishing in the town lake which is kept, much to my surprise, well stocked by our small, neighborly city. I had emerged long enough for my "poor me" mode to be in the moment, to be present, to remember to get out of myself and enjoy the park, the cooler night air, the company of Sunshine and the other 100 plus visitors. I paused on my counter clockwise circumnavigation of the park to observe the fisherman's very contented stance. "How's the fishing?" was greeted by a warm, welcoming smile, white teeth shining against his dark face. The sun had already set, the park lanterns provided enough light for not being afraid of the dark, but not so much it forced you from your reverie.
Cornelius is called The Fisherman, everyone knows him he assured me. What's the secret of his fishing success? A 99cent package of chicken franks from the Dollar Store, a heavy weight, no floatation device, and God's blessing. God's blessing is the secret, that and the chicken franks. Cornelius can be found at the Surprise park, or another one, nearly every evening. "Everyone knows me," he says without boasting. He's The Fisherman. The other day he caught a 22 pound catfish, took him home and threw him in his 250 gallon tank. Next, he's going to put him in his pool, put some netting on it, and get him some baby catfish. Until a few days ago, I didn't know anyone caught anything of consequence in the town lake.
Years ago, when Stu was still with us, grandson Jake and Papa went to Cabela's for an assortment of hooks, floats, sinkers, and bait. Jake caught some sun fish, or didn't, when he went with Auntie Christine. I thought it was wishful thinking that kept the fishermen coming back. I see them every night I take Sunshine to the park, several evenings a week this past month. Most catch nothing, but Cornelius catches everything. It's about the blessing, asking for His blessing, or Her blessing he willingly added when I prompted him.
Cornelius agreed to a photo when I promised not to post on Facebook, so this is the only place where the photo will appear.
Cornelius has been widowed since 2009 he offered after I told him I'd been widowed two years. It seems I tell everyone, Stu's never very far away. When I commented that he'd been widowed a long time, he said that it makes you stronger. I asked Cornelius why he shared his fishing secrets with me, and not with the other fisherman, he said it was for my grandson whom I told him had fished here unsuccessfully when he was younger. So Jake, this one is for you--chicken franks and heavy sinkers, and asking God for his blessing.
I've been going to the Surprise park in the early evening for the past several weeks. It's a great place to walk with Sunshine, get in my steps and exercise, be out and about where there's people of all ages, and racially diverse as well. And there's activity. In addition to the dozen plus fishermen and women, single adults and couples, kids and dogs, out every evening, there's walkers, basketball players, pickle ball competition, beach volleyball, kids on swings and slides, in strollers and on scooters. Even after the sun goes down, the park is safe. Night lights abound, not enough to compete with the sun, but enough to cast their reflection on the water and provide lighted pathways.
I'm beginning to recognize the regulars. There's a tall, gray haired dignified looking gentleman who wears a plaid shirt and jeans, walks straight, circling the lake in a clockwise direction every evening I've been there. We nod to one another when we pass as I frequently travel counterclockwise. One of the Ramadas is home to a back packer who is always engrossed in some reading material, has his supplies spread out around him, keeps pretty much to himself. Sunshine has met the same Scottie a few times whose owner and I have exchanged brief, dog related, pleasantries a few times. Cornelius is the first regular I've engaged in conversation with, but he won't be the last.
I've decided I can either walk the perimeter alone, be alone, or talk to strangers when I make the opportunity. We spend most of our lives with people just like ourselves, on similar pathways. Talking to strangers opens up another world, like reading a good book.
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