Fishing on Thin Ice (The Final Tip-Up)

This past Monday morning found me waiting for a flight home from Boston, thumbing through the news on my phone.  One article caught my eye because it mentioned a missing ice fisherman from my hometown who had gone out alone the previous night and never return home to his wife.  Immediately my thoughts went to my brother-in-law, the county sheriff who would have undoubtedly been coordinating the search, rescue, or more likely, recovery of this individual.  I said a silent prayer for his safety and for the others involved in the tragedy.

Decembers on the Kewaunee River are not like they used to be.  It has been several years since ice has frozen to a thickness that will support a fisherman safely.  Last year, fisherman had no more than 10 days of safe ice the entire season, and that makes them even more itchy to get out there after at the first cold snap.

When I arrived home that afternoon, I received the unfortunate news that I had a lot of connections to the victim.  Dave was the brother of my current employer John, son of my elderly neighbor Cathy, and future father-in-law of my wife's godchild Abby.  In fact, my brother-in-law sheriff is Abby's father.  I cannot imagine how difficult if is for Matt to be the point of contact between rescue services and a victim's family, but in this case, Dave was about to become family to Matt and the two men were good friends.

Attending Dave's funeral was a powerful reminder of how an individual can touch people in so many ways.  My own experiences with Dave were mixed.  At times, Dave could be a clown and was skilled at showing all how to relax and enjoy any type of recreation to a higher level.  Dave also was one of the few plumber's remaining in our small town, and he sometimes acted like he was sick and tired of disrupting his holidays and weekends for people who had burst pipes, dead water heaters, and backed up sinks.  At 65, he was ready to pass his superhero cape on to a younger tradesman and start enjoying retirement.  But years after saying it was time, Dave was still answering the calls that made him a fixture in town. Upon news of his passing, social media exploded with photographs of messages he wrote on customer's water heaters, water softeners, and even basement walls.  These included his name and phone number, but also little tips for preventing back-ups, corrosion, and other maladies of our waterworks.  He will be missed for the sometimes gruff, yet endearing way he cared for his customers.

I have been leaning into my own mortality since a house fire took my younger brother when he was 12 and I was 17.  The unusual nature of the accident led to my questioning the coincidences that resulted in my being out of the house that same evening.  It certainly could have worked out very badly for me.  Instead, I took it as a directive from the Universe to question my purpose and get to work contributing whatever I had to offer to easing the pain of humanity.  It was an overwhelming charge, but as a young man, I felt like I would have time to figure some things out, but I would not waste time "sowing my oats" and instead live as deeply as I could for as long as I was permitted.

Fast forward 40 years, and I am entering a new phase of life.  Retirement from public education, entry into a part-time career driving garbage trucks, and my first term in local government politics as a city council representative.  Friends and family laugh at the turns my work life have taken, but it makes sense to me.  Two things nourish my soul: learning new skills and being a servant leader.  The happiest times of my life continue to be experiences where I get to do both.

Which brings me back to Dave and fishing on thin ice.  Some day, in my euphoria to learn and serve, something like the sound of cracking ice will catch me off guard and I will quickly realize the trip has ended. There will be no more opportunities to find answers I have been looking for all my life.  Why was my brother Mark taken and I was spared?  For what purpose have I been so blessed with loving women, children who make me so proud, students who have gone on to become accomplished in every possible way, and friends who allowed me to ask the most personal questions in my search for meaning.  Will time slow down and key life events appear as a slideshow, or will the lights simply go out and an immense, peaceful silence envelope me as my "leben" rushes to rejoin a universal life force connecting all things?  I am not sure, but I think about it a lot more these days.  I don't want to stop fishing on thin ice if it means doing those things that I love.  That's how I roll, I guess.

Note - I may want to add something about that recurring dream I had as a child where I am driving a car only to drive off a section of bridge under construction and begin falling toward the water so far below.  I always awoke before hitting the ice, but I still remember that brief moment of "Oh shit.  This is it.  Game over."  That's how I imagine my end might be.  Just a few seconds of awareness of the finality of it all, but no pain and no time to really be afraid of what happens next.  Maybe I will just wake up in a cold sweat, but this time it won't be my bedroom that I see next.