It's always fun to hear their stories, sometimes repeated say a dozen times, of neighborhoods from the past, home runs hit, fish caught, and trouble they got into or narrowly missed as they grew up. And then there's always the mind-searches of "What was that kids name?" from over 60 years ago. Those names usually popped up about four stories after the question was first asked.
The Two Joe's, now in or approaching their mid-70's, have been at this for sixty years, older than I am now. They have hunted and fished together since their youth, going from streams, ponds, and lakes in the Trenton area to the trout streams in Pennsylvania and northern New Jersey to the salt waters of the Jersey Shore. Fly or spin they have tons of fishing stories to tell. They have done those around living the life of marriages, kids, and careers. And the best part is they still fish, mostly now from the comfort of the front seats in Joe's Yukon, while riding the sand on Island Beach State Park.
These days, well at least for me, we don't seem to hold onto those childhood relationships like the elder statesmen before us. We probably changed schools, moved out of the neighborhoods of our youth, and formed new relationships with people we've met along the way. But how many of those relationships stick? We may cross paths with buds sharing the same passions but how many are you calling in the middle of the night when something goes down? How many drop what they are doing because you need something, and I'm not just talking about big stuff like injury, illness, or death. There's just something transient and not permanent about relationships this days, they're almost superficial and casual at best.
For some reason things just don't last these days. The world, and the things in it, change at such a rapid rate, and not always for the better. Just as things are going good someone, or something goes and throws a monkey wrench in it. Kids, wives, careers, and moves all contribute to the ebb and flow in interpersonal relationships, not that those things are bad. For years Bunky and I were tight, and we still are, although there is a distance now between us with me in New Jersey and he in Maine. That's us above, sitting on the steps of what Charlie called the "Sugar Shack", which was an apartment over the garage on Steve Taggart's property up near The Jaws, where the Beaverkill meets the East Branch. That morning we were there having coffee before we went our separate ways floating clients down one of the Upper Delaware Rivers. That was a decade ago. Where does the time go?
I should do a better job maintaining relationships as my years progress into later adulthood. People come and go in our lives and new memories are made, but we all know, the best years, and sometimes the best people, are from times during the early chapters of the book that is our life. A buddy, well more so a true friend, knows your most innermost secrets, has your back when no one else does, and motivates and pushes you when you need that boost. They are almost an extension of your self.
Today, if you go to Surf Day at Brookdale Community College, with weather permitting, you'll see these two 60+ year buds walking the show floor looking for that must-have plug they just need to shove in their plug bag. Yes, they're not chasing tides and moons in the middle of the night like they used to, but they still take that hour-plus drive from Mercer to Ocean County several times each year just like they did in the 1960's and 70's. It's pretty cool for me to see old guys act like kids. And inside each of us is still a young kid, we just let life, and old age, prevent them from coming out every now and then.