But some experiences are esoteric, cryptic and filled with significant deliberate lessons through ordinary events.
The Detroit River at the foot of third would become my most cherished sanctuary. My oldest brother Stan, would always talk about going fishing. I had never been before. I knew only what I saw on TV. One day my mother took us to a park named Bell isle. This park was located quite a distance from where we lived. We would go there that day for our first time ever-family picnic. Stan was excited because he was going fishing. He would occasionally reach into his pocket to show off his bait. It was an earthworm that he had caught the night before. Several times he’d reach into his upper left shirt pocket, remove and dangle this dried up but still very much lively night crawler. Later after finally arriving at the park and locating a grill, he was permitted to go fishing on one of the islands shallow inland lakes, my mother was much to nervous to let all three of us go to the other side of the Island and fish the infamous Detroit River. So off he went, Stan fished and fished all day long. From afternoon till evening, reeling in and casting out, all day and we caught nothing. Absolutely nothing. As I recall. But boy was the whole thing fun.
Later as we got older, my mother would trust Stan to take us both Calvin and myself down to the Detroit River. The three of us would walk for what seemed like hours and no sooner had we arrived with fishing gear still in hand, when a car honked its horn had come to pick us up. We had just walked this long distance for nothing. But our momma was worried to death “I was worried to death” as she would put it of the idea that one of her three boys would fall into that big dangerous river and drown. But I had seen enough, I my affinity for the river had been made, I stood there that day for a brief moment feeling something, I liked this place, and there was a feeling about it I had never had before. It felt calm and welcomed. “Come on?” Stan yelled! I turn and ran to the waiting vehicle. My connection to the river would become vital, inseparable and all-important. Years would pass before my next visit but my next visit was sure.
As I got older fourteen or fifteen, my brothers and I sort of drifted apart. Each of us had our own group of friends and special interests. Calvin and I though would sometimes go on adventurous journeys together we’d walk everywhere. One of those excursions would take us back down to the river. Hey! Calvin said; let’s go down to the river! Let’s go down to the river and do a little fishing he said again, “Yeah, the river!” I began thinking; it’s been a long time since I heard that suggestion, “let’s go!” I said. After a quick plan of action, we were set to leave tomorrow morning at six o’clock, we were told that’s when all the fish bite. This fishing thing Started with Stan, and for a while with Calvin but later would continue with me going it alone. By this age...