Fishing The Past-Chapter 1
The sea channel, leading from the bay through the barrier island to the Gulf was old structure that had long been one of his favorite fishing places. As he approached it, he cut the motor and eased the anchor over the side, allowing the boat to come to a halt just a few feet from the edge of the channel, where he could easily cast well into the deeper water. There would be plenty of fish here, not only in the channel; but in the shallower water along it. He could count on some action, although one could never really predict with any accuracy what kind of fish would be here. He remembered the story his dad had told of hooking into something really big; and fighting it for the better part of an hour before getting a look at it, then touching his cigarette to the line because it was a 12-foot manta ray. He had had a few tackle busters on, here, himself. Some, he had never seen; and he could only wonder what they might have been.
Yes, it had been great! Now, it was soon to end; and the thought saddened him and brought tears to his old eyes. Still, it wasn't like he'd have to leave, this time. This time, he was staying for all time. A thousand years from now, his atoms and molecules would still be washing these shores, his spirit would still walk these beaches.
Deciding on a bottom rig, he attached one to his favorite rod, clipped on a 3-oz. sinker and a 5/0 hook, then put the hook through a 4-inch perch, just below the dorsal fin. This had usually brought some great action in the past; and would probably do so, today. He cast toward the middle of the channel, allowing the sinker to hit bottom before closing the bail and taking up the slack in the line. He placed the rod in the rod holder next to him, visualizing the piggy swimming around a foot and a half above the bottom, tempting the fish he knew were there.
Time for a pain pill, he noted. Reaching into the cooler, he picked up a cold soda and reached in his pocket for one of the pills the doctor had prescribed for the pain that sometimes doubled him over. It was one of the new synthetics that were considered 'safe' to give to terminal patients. The thought brought a wry grin to his face...'safe' to give to someone with only weeks or months to live!
Leaning back in his seat, he placed his feet on the gunwale and pulled out 'the makings'. He didn't roll his own cigarettes very often; but, when he was communing with his ancestors, he smoked a 'special' blend containing certain herbs that made it easier to make contact with them. His people had done so for thousands of years; and the herbs were completely legal and harmless...(just for the record, this blend DID NOT contain any of the popular drugs that had been outlawed for so many years).
Drawing the aromatic smoke deeply into his lungs, he relaxed and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift aimlessly. Usually, the little spots and things you see when you close your eyes would begin to swirl and coalesce into a vision.
This time, it was different. His eyes were closed, yet he was still seeing! Looking around, he found that he was not on the boat; but sitting in a desk in a classroom. He remembered these surroundings! This was during his junior high school days.
"Just another memory!", he thought, opening his eyes. Sometimes, that happened; and he would just replay the memory in his mind. This time, though, he really wanted contact with his forebears.
Taking another deep drag off his cigarette, he leaned back and closed his eyes again. This time, he was sitting at the dinner table with his parents, brothers, and sister. As usual, there was an argument in progress between himself and his next-younger brother. He remembered those quarrels with just a bit of rancor...even when he was right, he lost, because his parents both tended to favor that particular brother.
Well, this wasn't getting him anywhere, he decided. What he really wanted was communion with the spirits. He opened his eyes; and was back on the boat, rocking in the wake of a shrimp trawler that had just passed. He reeled in his line and rebaited the hook, casting to a slightly different place; and put the rod back in its' holder.
He opened another soda, took a deep drink of it; and rolled himself another cigarette. Leaning back in his seat, he smoked and watched the action of the water, the wind, and the sun, reminiscing about his younger days...the things he had experienced and the things he had done as a boy. "Just 'go with the flow'.", he thought. "When the spirits are ready, it'll happen.".
As he sat and enjoyed his cigarette, drawing the aromatic smoke deep into his lungs, he considered his life, wondering if there was something he had done or not done that led to his present predicament. Maybe, as a boy, he might have done something differently that might have changed today in some way.
The doctors were no help in that regard, because Madison Avenue and the anti-tobacco extremists had pretty much convinced the entire medical profession that the only cause for cancer was tobacco. They had completely ignored the other causes (viruses, diesel exhaust, fluoride compounds, etc); and concentrated on what was offensive to them. Still, tobacco in excess, like any other excess, was definitely harmful to the body. If he had never started smoking, he would be a little better off...
Abruptly, the scenery changed. He was a boy, again, and the kid in front of him was offering him a small cloth bag of tobacco and a package of cigarette papers. With a flash of insight, he tried to stop his younger self from taking it; but could only watch as his boy's hands took a paper, added tobacco, and rolled it just as he had watched his parents do, licking the edge to make it stick. The young old man struck a match, setting fire to the hand-rolled smoke and drawing smoke into his mouth.
The old man tasted the hot, raw smoke as if he were really there; and the young old man coughed as it stung his throat. The old man tasted it; and his knowledge of the effects and the future cost of it caused him to hate it. The young old man coughed violently; and threw the cigarette on the ground, turning away and walking back to the school grounds. The old man was shocked! This wasn't the way it happened the first time around! Had he actually affected the actions of his younger self? He hadn't been trying to do so; but maybe his reaction to the first taste of tobacco smoke had somehow affected his younger self...
Another trawler passed, rocking the boat and rousing the old man from his reverie. Glancing down, he saw that he was getting a bite on his fishing rod; and picked it up, taking up slack and setting the hook. Dang! This was a nice fish! Five minutes later, he tossed a 24-inch trout in the live well, rebaited, and recast.
What the old man didn't and couldn't notice, because, for him, it had always been that way, was the fact that there was no longer a package of cigarettes in the tray on top of the boat's console. He also didn't notice (for the same reason) that he still had many of his own teeth, instead of the dentures that he had worn for many years. Nor would he realize that he no longer suffered from the shortness of breath that had plagued him for fifty years.
The old man noticed that the sun was getting high and it was getting uncomfortably warm, so he erected the home-built shade that he had put on the boat years ago. Opening the cooler, he took out a sandwich and another soda and settled back to eat his lunch. What a beautiful day! Clear, just enough breeze to be comfortable under the shade; and the water was so clear that he could see the bottom, about 4 feet below.
As he carefully stowed the trash from his lunch, he remembered back to his boyhood days, again. He had led quite a life. In school, he hadn't been very popular because he was a poor kid who had little money, poor clothes, and wasn't big enough for most sports. He remembered the few kids who treated him decently, and that they eventually became his friends. Even the kid who had tried to get him into smoking became his friend, because he had tried smoking, didn't like it; but didn't run tattling to the principle.
The old man remembered that day. How he had rolled the cigarette, lit it; but was overcome by the coughing and never took the second drag. It had seemed strange at the time, because his parents smoked around him all the time; and that didn't bother him. He still rolled cigarettes; but only the special herb kind that he used to induce communication with the spirits. Although strong and biting, those were necessary to his religion.
He checked his line, rebaited and recast, and relaxed back in his seat. He still wanted to visit with the spirits of his ancestors. Today, of all days, he needed their guidance and opinions. He had already smoked two of the special herb cigarettes; and one had always been enough. He would try once more, then wait awhile.
As he sat, inhaling the potent smoke, he thought about his past life. He knew that he had made many mistakes; and he had enumerated them many times over the years. Some were important, some were just the run-of-the-mill mistakes that one learned from. The important ones were real dillies, though. In fact, some of them were responsible for the reason he was here, today. He had long suspected that the fluoride compounds that had been forced upon the American people for decades were partly to blame for the increase in the incidence of G-I cancer.
Suddenly, there was someone else aboard the boat. One second, the old man was alone, the next, there was a very old man sitting in the forward seat of the boat. The old man was not alarmed, for such things had happened before. He recognized the visitor as Chief William Red Fox, an old Indian chief who used to come and lecture at the schools when he was a boy.
"Ho, Chief Red Fox!", he greeted. "Have you come to lead me to the home of my ancestors?".
"No, my friend.", replied the Chief. "Your time is not now. You have many things to do, many things not yet experienced. Rather, I have come to show you the signs along the path chosen for you. As you have seen, you have been given the ability to affect your present by changing your past. There are things that you can do, and things you cannot do.".
"You may directly affect your own present; but you can affect the presents of others only as a side effect of what happens to you. You have already done so in a small way by affecting your younger self in such a manner as to prevent him, and yourself, from becoming a smoker. You cannot, however, influence others in that manner. If you were to try to keep your blood brother from becoming a smoker or an alcoholic, you would find that to be impossible to do in the way that you did for yourself. If that should happen, it would be because of something your earlier self did.".
"You can cause your earlier self, but not others to see you. You do this by causing the young old man to see a vision. This vision will be able to communicate as if it were real. I would caution you, however, not to do this when other people are near your younger self, for he will be using voice; and you will be both invisible and inaudible to others. This could have a very negative effect upon your younger self's social standing.".
"I used this appearance because I knew you would recognize and remember it. I remembered that, as a boy, you were the only child in the class who showed enough respect to pay attention all the time that I was speaking.".
"You will know when you can change things; but you cannot know the outcome, so you must be very sure of what you are doing. You will also be able to remember making the changes.".
"I must go, for now; but you can call; and, if we feel that you really need us, we will come. Goodbye, my friend; and good fishing!".