The Hidden Gem

To look for something lost and then as you enter each room to look for the lost item, you realize that you are not sure why you enter the room at all.

Doorway Amnesia!!! It's where you enter one room passing through the doorway and then forget what you entered in the room to look for or to actually do. It makes me mad when I was sure I would not forget as soon as I passed through the oblivion and then when I return to the other room, then I remember.

"How can I forget that quickly?" It seems it was right there on the edge of my thoughts, ready to be searched for and then it came to me like a light bulb moment. "I was just thinking about that." It seems more like my mind has selective thoughts or plays tricks on me as I look around the room and discover I forget. More often than not.

Old age is not the culprit. Lack of motor skills is not the culprit. It's just me being a human being. It plagues on your mind and gives moment to pause. Yeah right, more like 15 minutes and counting first forwards then backwards. It gives you that feeling of dejection. You feel sad then you feel inspired then you feel some unknown feeling or emotion that sidetracks your mind and your thoughts that are part of that one thing you were looking for.

You are out on the family estate lake that is frozen by the first signs of winter. You are always out here, if nothing else, but to fish and hope to catch dinner, which is a take a number and wait your turn, kind of event. Been in the family for generations and you are the next to last 3 people to be chosen.

You place your mobile ice hut on the part of the lake that is considered the deepest frozen and can uphold your 288-pound frame. You have brought your fishing equipment, along with a cooking stove and something to fix to eat while you are out here in the ice.

Hard to believe you were only yesterday being taught about ice fishing from your grandpa. His eyes lit up when you and he were out there on the ice. Of course, the lake was much larger then and the days were longer, before. You both enjoyed your time spent together on the ice and having your "Don't tell your mother, I gave you some beer" speech. It was those memories that made you smile.

You get back to your task at hand. You then look your watch, noticing the deadline to fish for, to catch and get it ready, and then bring your catch in the house, where most people will be grossed out at either the sight of, the smell of, or possibly both. Uncle Gyno will be unable to stomach the idea of eating fish, even though he is the one chosen to clean your catch.

There you are, sitting on the crate, getting your pole ready to drop into the ice. You are shivering, even with 3 layers of clothes on, and not to make matters more unbearable, you drop the line into the frozen water. You wait. You wait patiently then impatiently. You fall asleep and then shake awake. Must be the ceremonial beer drank before you drop the line in.

You sit there wrestling with the idea of sneaking off to the local grocery store, if nothing else, to get a medium size fish, to bring back home, so that you can save face. But this is not part of the tradition, and you don't want to let them down either. You want to make everyone happy, which is inevitable impossibility.

Mom is waiting by the back door, dad is sitting in his recliner chair, watching the football game, in the nice toasty heated den. Along with him, is the rest of the group, which is with your two brothers, Phil and Patrick, along with my 5 sisters, Patty, Patricia, Paula, Priscilla, and Pepper. With lots of nephews and nieces in tow, the fishing day event is filled with football, laughter, good food and great company.

"I know you are wondering how so many fit into such a small room?" "Simply put, each member builds their own chair or seat, to accommodate their individual needs for watching the game with dad."

Yes, this is part of the tradition, and it has been going on for 3 or more generations. It has been part of they are watching the game while the one chosen to catch dinner gets the job or task of making sure to get the biggest one possible. The task takes all day more or less and should bring in a large haul also.

Today I was chosen, by a draw of straws. There are no straws in the house because we keep using them to see who will be chosen for various tasks that are part of the holidays. Everything from who seeks out the deer to be fixed for dinner, or the turkey who is used for the dinner. Yes, there is even the ice fishing routine, that is not routine, not even in the slightest.

In this case, it is a time for me to recall all the times spent with family and the stories told to each of us, by each of us, that makes them so vivid and some of the happiest moments, cherished by all, told by one.

Just then I see the line tugging, and reach for the fishing pole, to reel in what I hope will be a large fish on the end of the line. To my surprise, the pole seems to be heavier than usual. I start to reel it in as my hands hurt more with each spin, reeling and reeling in, as the line brings up not only a huge fish in tow, but this diamond ring in its mouth that the fish had decided would be its next meal.

Boy, was I surprise at the sight and just let out a loud yippee, at the gift that came with the fish. I was surely not going to gloat over this event in the slightest. I would share with the family about the lost ring of my grandmother's. It would be a story to tell and share for many years to come.