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When You Teach a Boy to Fish
How my uncle’s generosity — and love of the sea — inspired me for a lifetime
Sometimes, early planted seeds that will germinate decades later into a writer’s life are planted by sources neither formal nor literary. Indeed mine were neither. I had Uncle Tony. What Uncle Tony had: An untrained eye for the beautiful and a willingness to share a little time near water.
But now he’s in a two-person room on the far side of the curtain. Our visit is mostly a surprise. As we file past the partition Tony takes in his visitors. It’s my mother, me…
“Here’s a person I haven’t met,” he says as we fully materialize.
“My wife,” I say, and before I can add, “Patricia,” he points to a photo of her on the wall, on a boat, holding up a halibut.
Tony had always been drawn to the sea, to boats, and to fish. That drew me to him. But today is only the third time I’ve seen my uncle in 10 years. He’s not much of a talker so I seldom call. At age 87 he’s got diabetes, recently pneumonia, everything hurts. He refuses to complain and his energy is limited. So the calls, which he always ends with, “I love you,” are short.
We all know he will not go home. I feel ashamed that this is only our second visit here, and that he’s not previously met my…
