Gone Fishin'

On my way to school and back again, I pass a part of the highway that runs perfectly straight for the better part of a mile. As this section is close to a major river, it is only natural that the asphalt of the road gives way to several bridges while traversing this span. Most of the streams are small- mere residuaries for the marsh that takes over when the waters rise and subsequently flood the lowlands.

Not a day goes by that I don't see a truck or car parked off the shoulder and next to one of those bridges. The person actually fishing is so far down that I can't usually see them, but they're down there. Once I saw two women standing on one of the banks, poles in hand. It shocked my schema quite a bit, as I had subconsciously relegated fishing as a predominately male activity.

One must be psychologically stable to fish, I'm willing to bet. It takes a patience, dedication, and a willingness to be perfectly content with our surroundings that our society seems to disdain. Perhaps if ol' John Wilkes Booth had taken up the habit, Lincoln would have got to see the whole play that night.

The point is this- everyday I drive to school and work. And everyday I pass a car (during the middle of the day) parked on the side of the road near one of the creeks.

Who's smarter, me or the person who has nothing better to do with their day than go fishing? Which one of us has the better life? Which one is truly happier and more content? Three decades from now, even if I live in a mansion, will the answers to those questions change? What if the person fishing lives in a hovel? Any change there?

I'll not push the issue further, for I fear I know the answer, and I'd rather wish I didn't.