We headed up stream after dinner. I love to fish but was dragging butt. Tired to the bone. Oddly enough Emil seemed just fine. Also, when we scrubbed down with ice water from the pump he didn't look anywhere near as dirty. Got me thinking he was either in much better shape than any other fifty-nine year old man or your's truly had born the brunt. Made a vow to pay more attention when we cleaned up the mess we'd left behind in the driveway.
Emil kept his fishing gear stored under the roof of the woodshed. He'd built a simple box out of plywood and secured the contents with hasp and padlock. From it he removed a pair of ultra-light spinning rods and reels. Once in the flow, it didn't take him more than five minutes of flipping a tiny spinner to hook up with a small brook trout, laughing all the while about his expertise. Me, I was quite happy to sit on the bank and watch the man.
Like the trout he finally coaxed to shore, Emil was soon off and running, "Sorry about today. Archie me lad, you outworked me double. Would have done more had I been able but remember what I said way back in the beginning. You're the muscle in this operation, I'm the brain. Unless of course, you figure out a better angle on how to do something. This game is near as new to me as it is to you. I've driven my share of nails but never took on a whole building before. Truth be known, I've got a general idea of what we're doing but an idea ain't the same as knowing. You never know exactly what's around the corner 'til you get there. Did some research in the Uniform Building Code manual. Got some advice from friends in the trades. And checked with city hall down in Grand Marais so's I could get the needed permits. I'm as ready as can be but that doesn't mean I'm overflowing with confidence my cabin won't fall over with the first good fart."
"So here's what I learned in a nut shell. Square, level, plumb and don't skimp on the nails. Don't overdo them either. And seeing as how I'm fifty-nine, don't do any more than you can in any given day. When it comes to sheer grunt work, Archie me lad, you're my right arm."
Was he snowing me? Nah. Work was what I'd come to do and was exactly what I was doing. No complaints. Outside of sore hands, abraded arms, knees that felt like they'd hoisted the Empire State Building half an inch and absolutely no desire to fish, I felt just fine. In short, I was a walking dead man.
"So, tell me about your plans for the next few years."
Took a minute of staring at the riffle below and Emil playing and losing a brook trout of size for me to answer,
" Huh? Plans you say? Well, I suppose my plan is to get some kind of degree. And at the moment I have no idea what degree that might be. Not a clue. Don't even know why I'm actually going to college. Most everyone expects me to. Oh yeah, about all anyone has told me for the last year is (in a high falsetto voice) 'young man you're college material'. Whatever that is. Maybe that's the plan? Get a degree then stumble around for the rest of my life trying to figure out why."
Seemed college was on a lot of young men's plates in '65. There was a war going on. Not a real big one at the moment but it sure had a lot of potential. For most, the choices were college, the military or for a growing few, let your hair grow and smoke pot. As for me, none of the three appealed. Given the choice, staying up here in the woods with Uncle Emil sounded a whole lot better than any of them. A couple of my friends had been smart enough to get on a waiting list for the Air Force. They were committed to four years of service but weren't gonna die. Might even learn a trade. Had I given the matter some serious thought I'd have seen the one way ticket to Vietnam already in my pocket. Hard to see what you don't want to see.
"So I guess the plan is to go to school 'til I figure out what I want. Or it comes and finds me."
After the second trout Emil'd eased off the bank and into the brook to wade fish. Khakis rolled knee high and barefoot. Said it gave him an edge feeling the same water as the trout. Also made his feet numb so the sharp rocks didn't hurt. The serious nature of our palaver brought him out of the flow. He paused for a moment while sitting on the gravel and wiggled his toes into the beat-up Keds I'd held for him. Not far behind us, back in the woods, rose the sentinels, standing watch over their domain.
Emil gestured inland, "I sure do like those white pines. Been there for centuries and now they're forced to share their land with us. Wonder how they like it? 'Course the rocks were there a few hundred million years earlier and'll be there 'til the planet grows cold. Guess it's okay if we share their turf for a few years."
He paused for a few seconds, lost in thought.
"Archie me lad, don't think what you're going through is anything different than what we went through. Back during World War II not every one of us was fired up about fighting the Germans or the Japanese. Was more like we felt an obligation. The country called, we went, simple as that. We did what we felt had to be done. Not that every man-jack of us was hell bent for leather. You have to question the sanity of anyone who actually wants to go into combat once he realizes the horror of it. People get killed there. Lots of them. And the odds're pretty good one of them could be you."
"But you know, our war was almost a crusade compared to what you're facing. Not trying to push you one way or the other and this is just my opinion, but I can't see any reason at all why we've stuck our noses into Southeast Asia. There's no bad boys over there threatening the safety of the world like there was twenty-five years ago. But you see, that's the very reason why you're so screwed. No matter how wrong that war may or may not be, I believe you still have an obligation to our country. It's your problem to figure out what that obligation is. And how you truly feel deep down inside, how much of you is ruled by fear and how much by morality. Also, keep in mind, if you don't go, some other poor fool will. She's a dilemma alright and you're riding high on the horns."
Didn't know what to say. He was dead right. Not many World War II vets felt that way back in '65. Most said it was 'my country right or wrong' which meant keep you mouth shut, suck it up and go to war. Emil at least saw both sides of the issue. With him, as always, it was about being honest with yourself. We returned to camp in silence.
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