“These are the days by the sparkling river…”
Dateline: Savor…
22,044.
As of today, Monday, October 22, 2012.
22,044
That’s how many days I have been alive.
There have been 3,149 Mondays, in my life
3,149 Tuesdays.
3,149 Fridays.
And so on, so on.
22,044 total days of being alive.
Of which, there have been 3 days,
of Wow.
“…these are the days now that we must savor…”
Don’t get me wrong, I have had many great days, several thousand real fine days, a couple hundred down right cool days, and probably two or three months of days I would rather not get into.
But Days of Wow.
That would be…three.
Unfortunately, the cruelty is, I didn’t know it was a Days of Wow while I was standing in the darn thing.
It was a damn fine nice day, or so I thought, but only years later, did I realize just how special those 3 days were.
Days of Wow…days so special, that in your final days, final moments, they will be the days you remember, the moments in time that have stood still in your mind.
Forever days.
Perfect days.
Days of Heaven.
Three days of Wow, out of my 22,044 so far.
The three best days of my life.
The day, the moment, I first saw the face of my wife. Days of Wow, number 1.
The day, the moment, I held my just born daughter Ashley in my arms and kissed her forehead and wiped my tears from her cheek. Days of Wow, number 2.
The day, the moment I bent down and softly sang a song through the hole in the incubator that held my newborn son, Jimmy. Days of Wow, number 3.
Days of Wow,
are the days you dream of.
Days of Wow,
are what you goof into the mirror about.
They are your Oscar acceptance speech.
They are your touchdown dance.
They are your air guitar.
Days of Wow,
are the Northern Lights in your life.
“…and we must enjoy as we can…”
The man couldn’t answer my question at first. This is what I asked: “So dude, what’s it like to be here?”
Here he is, three tournament days away from making the Bassmaster Classic.
He just sat there, sat on the deck of the Skeeter boat, sat there holding a Skeet Reese yellow fishing rod in his hand.
He looked at me when I asked the question, but in answering it he could only look down at the carpet of the deck.
And then he answered, and his answer began with a pause, and this is what he said, exactly, “Um.”
“Um…”
I could have walked away at that moment…because frankly, the “Um…” said into the carpet said it all for me.
Days of Wow.
“Um…I have been fishing since I was 10 years old…40 years now…I have watched every Bassmaster Classic and dreamed of fishing in it…and now…now…”
Tim Dycus, once of Mayflower, Ark., now of Carlisle, Ark. …fishing his first Fed Nation Championship could not even say that now he had a chance to actually fish in the Classic if he did well here in the next three days.
Couldn’t say it…it meant that much to him.
A working stiff all his life…now a Materials Manager, whatever that is, but all those times he has held the imaginary Bassmaster Classic trophy above his head, held the iron up high, to be three days away from the Classic stage was held in so much reverence, he couldn’t even say it.
And let me tell you something dudes, just being here has changed this guy’s life. How…that he could speak about with ease. “I started running 4 miles a weekend, started a boot camp workout twice a week…the better conditioned I am, the better angler I will be.”
But it was his wife, Karen, that brought that quote home:
“Yeah and he has lost 25 pounds…changed his life.”
Days of Wow.
“…these are the days that will last forever…”
“I…a carpenter…”
And with his hand he pretended to hold a hammer and knock on wood.
“…fix things…you understand…”
I might have, might not have, won’t admit to any of that, but I did ask, “Do you build houses…?”
And the carpenter just looked at me.
Knew I had asked him something, but didn’t understand.
The carpenter’s name is Marco Cambi, the Italian Champion Bass Angler from Florence, Italy. Great angler, not so great with English yet.
It took him 19 hours IN THE AIR to get here, “We went first to Bologna, Italy…then Frankfurt, Germany to Charlotte, USA and from Charlotte to Hunts…Hunts…Huntsville…we flew.”
All the time we talked, in his hands he twirled fishing line between his thumb and finger. Held the line with the reverence of the Maestro holding the baton.
“I…you know…restore…fix…”
“Oh cool, fix what.”
“Frames…I restore frames…wood frames…my sister she fixes the painting, me…I fix the frame.”
Marco and his wife, live in Florence, Italy and they restore paintings…actually to be more precise…they restore…treasure.
Works of art.
“I fix frames…restore…fix…the frames…frames…oldest I fix…16th Century…frame…me…I fix.”
In his fingers, hands that can fix 500-year-old wood, in his fingers the fishing line still twirls.
And then the twirling stops, his head lifts up and he looks past me to all the other boats in the yard, all the other anglers working on tackle, and his fingers are still, and the line sparkles in the sun, and a smile breaks out on his face.
Translation, not needed.
And as I start to walk away, the line glints, and starts to twirl between the fingers of the carpenter that fixes masterpieces.
“This,” he says to the universe, as much to me, “I…you know…how you say…eccitato…”
I have no idea, but Marco does and he wants me to understand….
“Eccitato…thrilled….I thrilled…” and then he gestures with his free hand to, out there, the boat yard, the tournament.
As I walk away, this is the last thing he says to me…he points to his chest and says, “Me….me…me…”
And finally this, “me…..dream.”
“Dream.”
Days of Wow.
The secret, is to know one when you are standing in it.
Tim Dycus does.
And so to does, Marco
Days of Wow,
in the masterpiece,
called, Life.
“…and you’ve got to hold them, in your heart.”
“These Are The Days”
Van Morrison
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