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3rd Place, Adult Writing Division: A rivers Gift by Ed Northen
Preface to “A Rivers Gift” [a poem]
The memories of our past often are brought to the present through our senses. Fishing on the Big Wood River summons memories of the two great gifts my father gave me, a love for rivers and fishing. Though he had a difficult life rivers became a refuge and place of peace for him.. On the river fishing together we shared our lives. Though he has passed, he comes to me when I step into the river to fish.
Two gifts
My Father gave me
The love of rivers
And fishing
Growing up
Rivers
Were a place of solace
From the tragedies
Of his youth
Loosing both parents
By the age of seven
A father to cancer
His Mother murdered
He bore
The full brunt
Of a great depression
Rivers
Became his sanctuary
Their waters
Rescuing his soul
He would visit them
When despair pursued
And haunted him
In my adolescence
We sat
On a river’s edge
Listening to
Its liquid music
Absorbed in beauty
The tranquil child
In my father
Returning
Timeless
The enduring river
Restores him
Stepping
Into the Wood River
On a summer afternoon
Its gentle water
Caress
Envelop me
Uniting me
With my father
A man of rivers
I Cast to rising trout
Feeling the rhythm
The connection
My rod
Smoothly propelling
Line and fly
Which lands gently
Near the nose
Of a rising rainbow
Patiently
I wait
As my Father instructed
Absorbed
In beauty
Wonder
Grateful
For gifts given
3rd Place, Student Writing Division: Simple Fish by Chloe Davis
How would you feel if you had the power to kill something? Before saying goodbye, its eyes stare into your heart, praying that you’ll set it free and away from misery. What would you say if we all have that power in our hands? I watched the clouds float softly away from my backyard. Busy bumblebees and wasps floated pass my face. Hailey Coffee Company was roasting their coffee beans in the morning breeze. I closed my eyes and saw the orange glow from the sun through my eyelids. The sky grew black like a cloud swallowing the sun.
“Would you like to go fishing with me?” I could recognize that voice any day. I peeled my eyes open to find my dad standing over me. Fishing? Who goes fishing? I didn’t think fishing was a sport. I’m not the kind of girl who wants to go fishing. Hanging with my friends and eating sounded better, but this was my dad, I couldn’t just say no. He gave me five minutes to get dressed and ready. I took the time thinking about if I should slap on some makeup.
We drove to a fly shop. I had to wear waders. They look like oversized overalls made with the roughness of sandpaper. I was praying the whole time no one I knew would strut in the doors finding me looking like a clown from the circus. I wobbled to his truck. I was so embarrassed walking because my waders rubbed together creating the sound of your hands rubbing together. As we drove to the river, my dad was telling me about the celebrity houses we were passing. We parked our car on the side of the road adjacent to an old farm house. Dad led me to a path shaded by willow trees. Their shadows were eerie and dark. My dad took my hand and we walked down the path. We soon arrived to a swift river. I stared at my dad with fear glistening in my eyes. How would I ever be able to cross the river? Without any warning, he swung me over his shoulders and pushed through the water. I was shocked on how gracefully he moved through the water. He sat me down on the sharp rocks and pulled his fishing rod off his shoulders.
“The fish will not be able to see the clear line. This is how you fly fish, watch carefully.” He swung the line back and forth in the air. The line hissed as the fly snapped back and forth. He let the line fly on top of the river and float downstream. Dad made it look so simple like tying shoelaces. I pushed myself up and grabbed the pole. He helped me swing the line back and forth. I made the perfect cast. He let go and told me to try by myself. I tried to swing the line back, but the fly got caught on sagebrush. I was super good. He walked over and flicked the fly off.
“Try again, and don’t throw the line so far back.” Usually when people gave you corrections, you get the defeated feeling inside your stomach, but I didn’t get that feeling. His voice had a soothing feel to it like a hot shower does after a long day of work. I lifted the line again. I watched my hands as they rocked back and forth in a straight line. I let the fly lay on top of the water. I tried to keep track of the orange fly but it disappeared. Where did it go? All of a sudden my dad stumbled over the rocks and arrived at my side. He told me to reel in the line. I thought he was mad because I lost his fly. I quickly rotated my wrist and pulled the line. It was much heavier than before. I suddenly saw why. I caught a fish the size of a Blackberry cell phone. You may think that my fish was nothing but a small guppy, but to me it was a grand slam at a baseball game. I pulled the fish out of the water and watched it struggle as the hook pulled through his mouth. Dad unclipped the hook. I admired the fish. Its beautiful scales and glassy eyes shining in the sunlight. It made me realize how beautiful the fish was. But then, he started to struggle, trying to taste the fresh water lurking below. I looked at my dad with fear in my eyes. What do I do?
“Do what feels right to you.” His voice was very knowledgeable . The cold water streaming through my hands sent a cool chill down my spine. I soon realized the water was colorful and alive again.
“See how the water became darker as the fish was dying. Our valley needs the simple life to bring it truly alive.” He stood over me with his hands on my shoulders. Our valley is different without that one special fish.
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