- As the sun reflects on the water, his wrinkled, arthritic hands struggle to tie on a crappie jig.
- He smiles and thanks God for his last day on the water.
- On Memorial Day, take time to thank God for those veterans who gave their lives so you can have the freedoms you have.
By Larry Whiteley
His name is Joe, but everyone who knows him calls him Fish. He is in his 90s and still goes crappie fishing as much as possible.
It is early on a Memorial Day morning. Not many others are out fishing yet. The sun rises once again over the forested hills surrounding the lake. Birds begin to sing. Crows are cawing. Deer are at the water’s edge for a drink. A turkey gobbles on a distant hill.
He still misses his wife and son, who are both in heaven now. He doesn’t see his kids and grandkids much; they are busy with their own lives. A younger crappie fishing buddy in his late 70s is with him. It is me. Most of the time, it is just Fish.
We sit in his dented, scratched, and patched 1960 aluminum boat. The 25-horsepower Evinrude outboard that he put on it all those years ago still runs and powers the boat. It has no LiveScope or any other modern technology. That boat is like family to him.
As the sun reflects on the water, his wrinkled, arthritic hands struggle to tie on a crappie jig. I offer to help. He says no. It takes him a little longer, but he gets it done. He still uses that same rod and reel his wife bought him long ago. He knows where the crappie will be. They have always been there. His first crappie of the day is clipped to his fish stringer and hung over the side of the boat. It is not long until he is putting another crappie on the stringer.
By 10 am, we both have our limit of crappie. Fish looks up and sees an eagle sitting on a limb watching him. He tells me it is there every time he goes fishing. He smiles and thanks God for his last day on the water. He also thanks me for coming with him. A tear runs down his cheek and mine. His doctor has told him his heart is getting weaker. He has, maybe, six more months to live.
He sits in his boat and tells me that if it is time to leave this world, he wishes it could be right there on the water rather than some hospital or nursing home. I assure him that I will be there to help him in any way I can.
He wanted to talk some more before we headed to the boat ramp. After all the years, he still wonders why he got to come back home from war when so many of his buddies did not. He has never talked much about what it was like fighting for all of us over there. No one knows what he saw. The blood. The wounds. The bodies. They do not hear the bombs, the bullets, or the screaming. It is all hidden. Another tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away and thanks me for listening. Then Fish starts the old motor for the last time.
When we get to his home and pull into his driveway, Fish stops to look at Old Glory proudly flying on a pole in his front yard. It is there every day, not just on Memorial Day. He only takes it down when there is bad weather or replaces it with a new one.
We clean the fish and fry a few of them for lunch. He tells me that you cannot beat fresh, fried crappie. The rest will go in the freezer with all the other crappie he has caught. He will share them with me and other friends from our church.
On Memorial Day afternoon, Fish put on his Army Veteran cap, and I put on my Navy Veteran cap. We go to the graves of his wife and son. He sits and talks to them both for an hour or two. I bow my head and listen. He tells them he loves and misses them. He also tells them that he will be joining them soon. I get a lump in my throat and try not to let him see the tears in my eyes.
We spend the rest of the afternoon at the local military cemetery. We are there to honor those who served and those who gave their lives for our country. Standing in front of the graves of those he knew, he salutes each one. Then he says thank you and God bless you. He wipes another tear from his eye. He looked at me and said it was his last time doing that. I assured him I would continue his tradition until the Good Lord calls me home to join him up there.
He smiles because he knows I will take his place and do the things he does to honor our veterans on Memorial Day. He wonders how long it will take people to thank Veterans for serving when they see them wearing their Veterans Branch of Service cap. He asked me to speak at his funeral. I agreed to do that. He wonders if anyone will come to his grave but me on Memorial Day. I told him I would be there talking to him. I know he will be listening.
Thomas M. Smith once said, “This country has not seen and probably will never know the true sacrifice of our veterans. We all owe an unpayable debt to all our military. In the future, let us not send our servicemen and women off to war or conflict zones unless it is overwhelmingly justifiable and on moral high ground. The men and women of WWII were the Greatest Generation, Korea veterans the Forgotten Generation, Vietnam veterans the Hated Generation, Cold War veterans the Unsung Generation, 
and Iraqi Freedom and Afghanistan veterans the Underestimated Generation. Every generation has proved itself worthy of standing up to the precedent of the Greatest Generation. Since the American Revolution, American military men and women have been the best in the world. Let us all take the time to remember all veterans who served or are serving, peacetime or wartime, gone or still with us. May God Bless America and all veterans.”
I agree with every word Mr. Smith said.
What will you be doing on Memorial Weekend?
Will you be fishing, camping, playing in the water, or enjoying a backyard cookout? I ask you to please take time to honor the men and women who served or are serving. Take time to thank God for those who gave their lives so you can have the freedoms you have.
Pray for those who fought for us, got to come home, and still remember it all in the recesses of their minds—men like my fishing buddy, who just went on his last fishing trip. A man called Fish.