VIEW FROM THE PIER
by
Herman Sillas
Sometimes writing this column is a challenge. Too many things are happening that could be the subject, such as the Haiti earthquake, loss of jobs, California’s government in shambles, and the war, Democrats versus Republicans. In my family, children are facing challenges that were unknown when Cora and I were middle-aged. We get invitations now from our grandchildren for spelling bees, dance shows, soccer games, and marching band concerts. All could be topics for a column. But what are your interests, the reader?
That is my dilemma. Sometimes, I have a funny story to tell you and I will write about it because it makes me laugh, whether you want to read it or not. Some times I will pick a national topic because I think I have a new spin on it. Today I can only repeat what I’ve heard and you’ve heard it already.
I asked my family for a topic. They were no help. So, I stood out on the pier Saturday morning next to my two poles waiting to be inspired. I’m fishing with my buddy, Steve Carrico watching folks go by. Our poles are motionless, but we don’t care. The morning is glowing alerting us to the coming sunshine of the day. Strollers pass slowly and watch the pelican that stands perched on the pier rail a few feet from us waiting for us to catch him a perch. Folks take the pelican’s picture and I swear it poses, turning its head from side to side. Steve and I talk about the NFL games that will be on that day. I catch a small perch and toss it to the pelican. The old bird catches it in its large shovel sack mouth, points its beak to the sky, and swallows the wiggling fish. We can see the outline of the moving perch in the pelican’s long neck as it travels on what must be a horrible roller coaster ride to the pelican’s stomach. Cameras click as folks witness a death and meal. No one took my photo. I caught two other fish that morning but they were large enough to give to another fisherman instead of the pelican. It got ticked off and flew away.
Sunday morning, I’m out on the pier again with Steve and his brother, Gary. I still don’t have a story. We talk football and wonder why fish aren’t biting. We have theories none of which are provable or non provable. It doesn’t matter. That’s what we fishermen do. I suggest that daylight-saving time has messed up the fish and that Steve should lower a clock down into the water so that the fish can see that they are late for breakfast.
A lot more couples come out on Sunday holding hands and sipping coffee. I welcome them on the pier with a smile. They nod in return. A few, “any bites” are asked. I shake my head. A couple of the regulars stroll by and we catch up with each other about the week and talk about the storm that is predicted. A visiting fisherman comes over and asks what we normally catch here. I tell him that normally we catch nothing. He laughs and checks out my bait. They’re using the same with the same results. I look toward Dana Point and then toward San Diego. It is then I realize that I am in God’s country and the scene presented is one for me to view, love, and appreciate. That’s what I’ll write about. Stop. Look around you and take in the scene. See the beauty and the people. Then write about it. I did and that’s the view from the pier.
***30***
(Sillas, a San Clemente resident and L.A. attorney can be found most weekend mornings fishing on the pier. He can be reached at sillasla@aol.com)
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