Gratitude   

Much further down the line, and when it’s time for the “founding mothers” of DVWFFA to be delivering eulogies at each other’s memorial celebrations, it may be too late for some of us to either speak or comprehend heart-felt kudos, gratitude or memories. Why wait? I say the time is now, and here’s my story.

It was during one of my earliest club outings. I was new to fly fishing, paying my dues with repeated snags, tangles and pretty bad casting. A group of us had been in tenacious pursuit of trout, possibly up in Potter County. Mary Kuss was, of course, catching fish, as was everyone else, except me. By the end of the few days, I had remained decidedly fishless…totally “skunked”. During the long and dreary ride back to Philadelphia, I became increasingly discouraged: this is way too hard for me. I will never get skilled enough for this kind of fishing. I’m going to “chuck” to whole idea.

The mention of these sentiments to Mary a few days later seemed to engage her mentoring sensibilities and send them into high gear in an instant. She insisted that we needed to go out to the nearest water right away. I explained that I had some time that afternoon, but had set it aside to write an article for the newsletter. So, which is more important, the writing or fishing, said I. Coming from Mary's end of the phone there was no hesitation, no deliberation; only an emphatic “Fishing!”

We went to Darby Creek, a part Mary knew very well. She didn’t fish, only coached at my left elbow: The fish are most likely to be right there. We need to get into the water here. First casts should be in this area and then gradually move up. Do very slow and careful retrieves or you will spook the fish. Give more attention to completion of your back cast. And so on. I caught bluegills, no trout, and had a ball.

So, was I re-smitten with fly-fishing? You bet. What a good friend, whose time and generosity gave me a gift I will never forget.

--Judith Palmer--