db: Stories of the heart at the Central Open

When I needed love the most, came out of the blue to me, three love stories.

“Breathe before your breath runs out…”

Dateline: Central Open #1, Ross Barnett Reservoir

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is
a miracle.”

Albert Einstein

Last Wednesday, I disintegrated.

It was a fetal position day.

The miracle in my life boarded Delta flight 1931, and flew away.

My wife Barb, after a surprise wedding anniversary visit, had to get on a plane and fly back home, we had just spent four days together, three of those days in New Orleans, and now I was once again, alone.

Alone.

I have been away from home since the Bassmaster Classic three weeks ago, have three more weeks on the road before I get home…six weeks away.

I am not handling it well.

Comes Bassmaster Central Open registration, six hours after Barb leaves, I show up, stand around, heart not in being there, head not in being there, the shell of me showed up.

Nothing more.

Just being honest, here. You deserve honesty, good or bad.

So, the shell of db does not interact well, does not care to interact, does not care about stories, does not care about the Central Open, does not care about the job.

db has left the building.

Bye, bye.

Can’t light my freak-on. Can’t pull on my big boy pants. Go outside, get in the back seat of my Limo Tint No-One-Can-See-In Tundra, and break down, once again.

Truth that you deserve #1: When I climbed out of the back seat I had decided to pack up the truck, and drive home.

Career: 0, Love: 1.

Truth that you deserve #2: Came what I believe, was a flat out miracle.

Believe if you believe.

Wonder if you wonder.

But when I needed love the most, came out of the blue to me, three love stories.

Love stories @ the Central Open.

“…don’t try so hard…”

“He loves to fish so much, db, so much, but you know, you know, I have to help him, help him…” Brenda Milton sits alone in the middle of a field of white folding chairs, and she is whispering to me, “…I have to help him because he can’t write his name anymore…”

“Him,” is her husband “of 41 years,” Lyn Milton, a co-angler in the Central Open.

I wasn’t looking for a story, I was looking for a white folding chair to sit down on, wasn’t looking to listen to a story either but…

Truth that you deserve #3: Barb and I just got back from New Orleans where we celebrated our 41st wedding anniversary.

Brenda Milton and her 41-year-old marriage had my full attention.

“…but db, he has the tremors, his hands shake so much he can’t sign his name, can’t comb his hair, tie his shoes…”

I tell Brenda that I have to go somewhere else but that I would talk to her tomorrow, Thursday, at the event, truth was there was no somewhere else, I was just somewhere else that wasn’t where I currently was.

Truth that you deserve #4: The shell of db, was breaking, I just had to leave.

“Hey db man, how you doing.”

“Fine.” I lied.

Standing in front of me was my friend, former Elite Angler Brian Clark, a young man who was like an adopted son to me for the couple years he was on the tour.

“I’m fishing the Open, qualified to get back to the Elites last year, couldn’t afford it then, but if I qualify again this year, I may be back.”

“Great,” I say as I am moving to be elsewhere.

But then as we are standing there something glints in the sun, something on his waist, and I reach out and push his jacket back and find myself staring at a huge brass belt buckle, “What’s that.”

“Oh an old rodeo buckle I won…” and as I look closely at it I see it has printed on it the name, Pietraszewski…”

“What, who’s name is that.”

“That’s me, I was called, ‘Petro’ when I was in the rodeo.”

“What, who, huh…” Not what I need right now…

“db, most of my life I was Brian Pietraszewski, it is my mother’s maiden name…”

I’m just standing there, outside in the parking lot, standing confused and broken…

“…db my biological father left when I was a baby but when I was 25 or so, I found him, met him, his name was Bobby Clark…and you know what, know what…”

And suddenly I see on this tall, strong young man, suddenly I see a tear run out from under his shades…

“…you know what db, when I met him for the first time and we started talking turns out, turns out…(and Brian does a double clutch breath)…turns out he used to be in the rodeo as well…”

Truth that you deserve #5: I was starting to come back…some. 

I told Brian I would talk to him after weigh-in on Thursday, gave him a hug, and turned to get into my truck, was going to have flames coming out from under the truck as I bolted out of the parking lot until…

…I got a tap on my back.

“Hey db, where’s my confetti from the Bassmaster Classic…”

“…to move past the moment…”

As I turn to see who has interrupted my escape, I see two guys, a father and a son, “Hey db, I’m Bill McNutt and this is my son, Will, I sent you a Facebook message about getting some confetti after you wrote that story…

Here’s the exact message from February.

William McNutt
So this is in response to your de ja vu article. I plan on being there, the Classic, in a couple of weeks. A little operation Thursday…stents probably…3rd time. If I’m not there could you send the confetti. My wife Melinda is on FB…ominous I know…
Met you last year…Amistad I think…fishing as a pro in the Central’s this year I hope…see ya…

Don Barone
William…good luck with the surgery, I’m trying to stay healthy myself, not working out well. I would be happy to send you confetti, let me know how it all works out, my email is don.barone@gmail.com. Good luck man.

William McNutt
Thanks! Aware of your health too. You take care of yourself too. Lots of people look forward to your articles for B.A.S.S., keep them coming!

“Hey Bill nice to meet you, I don’t have the confetti with me right now but I’ll bring it to the weigh-in tomorrow and give it to you then…”

“Thank you…”

And as I stand there looking at this man and his son, suddenly Bill goes silent…

“…you know db I sent you that message because I didn’t know if I would make the Classic at all…”

I take my eyes off his son and look at Bill…

“…I was supposed to have heart surgery before the Classic, I sent you that message in case I didn’t make, didn’t make it, at least you would have sent the confetti to my wife…”

And my Facebook friend starts to cry.

And I reach out and hug my new real life friend, “Dude, it’s okay man, it’s okay…”

“The docs, they found a blockage in my heart, I already have four stents in, so they were going to operate…”

Truth that you deserve #6: I’m not leaving Bill standing here.

“…to operate but when they did the catheter on the table they found out I was okay, no need for surgery, it was a ‘false-positive’ I didn’t need heart surgery.”

And tears are in the eyes of both Bill and Will.

“Once we knew that we made the 13 hour drive to Greenville to the Classic but I couldn’t get on the floor to get any confetti, this is my first Open where I’m fishing as a Pro, I was hoping you would be here…”

“I am man, I’m here, I have the confetti in my hotel room I’ll bring you some tomorrow okay.”

“Great, we took, we took…”

And Bill has to take a couple of deep breaths.

“…we took sort of a family photo while at the Classic, took it in the Yamaha booth, I’ll tell you db, I didn’t know, didn’t think I would be in that photo…”

I have my hand on his arm…

“…I love my family so much…”

My hand tightens…

“…I just want to take that confetti and put it in the frame with that photo. I made it db, I made it.”

And as I drive out of the parking lot I call home to Barb.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey, you doing better.”

“Yep.”

“That’s good. Find any stories.”

“Yep, stories of the heart.”

”…these days go by…”

Lyn & Brenda Milton live in Florence, Alabama, Lyn is a retired insurance adjuster who has fished all over this country, “…he’s fished everywhere, Vancouver, Costa Rica, Ireland, I think it is good for him db, better he do that then be sitting around drinking, or off gambling.”

It is Thursday, Lyn has just weighed in…one fish, 14 ounces. I show him a photo of Brenda when he took to the stage and weighed in…

“And that’s just for a tiny fish, imagine what she does when I weigh in a 5 pounder.”

Brenda is standing at his side, “I couldn’t do this, couldn’t do a lot without her, she is my saving grace, my partner.”

“db, fishing is good for Lyn, great for him actually.”

Lyn: “Brenda has told you about my shaking, my tremors, I can’t do a lot of stuff anymore but you know what, as soon as I pick up a rod and a reel it goes away, the tremors stop. Fishing is my catharsis.”

Lyn looks at Brenda, Brenda looks at Lyn, both smile.

Brenda, “It’s good for both of us.”

I know, as Lyn came off the water, came up to the weigh-in station, I was standing back watching, had the big lens on my camera, could see that as he was walking his hand was shaking…

…and then, then as Brenda walked up to meet him the first thing she did was touch his shoulder, touch his face, and then reached down as he reached out…

…to grab her hand…

…and the shaking stopped.

 “…and they’re gone…”

I have just handed a napkin to Brian Pietraszewski Clark, so he can wipe his tears.

We are sitting in my truck, it is raining out and this is the closest dry spot, plus the windows are tinted.

“You know db, the lord, Jesus works in mysterious ways.”

Yep, boy do I know that.

“My biological father left when I was just a baby, I was raised by the man my mother married later, James Ansley, he raised me, he’s my father…”

Brian Clark is the Marlboro man in real life. A strong, well-mannered cowboy. This young man has been beaten up in the rodeo business, more injuries than you can imagine but…

“…James Ansley is my father, but one day I’m driving in my truck, going deer hunting and I suddenly hear a voice in my head, a voice as clear as me and you talking, and that voice says…”

…but I also know Brian as a friend, a close friend, so as a close friend he opens his heart to me, some of which I will share, some I won’t…

“…that voice says, ‘you need to find your real father’ so I do…”

…Brian tells me family stuff, personal family stuff, just take it that family life wasn’t always swell…

“…and it turns out he used to be in the rodeo, was huge into bass fishing, we looked exactly alike…”

…then comes another napkin…

“…but he died last year, we got along okay, I was glad I met him, but you know, you know he was…”

…Brian’s biological father had some issues, life long issues passed on through his family that eventually contributed to his death. Brian told me but out of respect for Brian and his family I will let the man rest in peace.

“When I told my step-dad, the man who raised me that I wanted to meet my biological father, James said he understood that he loved me and raised me as a son and would stand by me and comfort and help me and love me no matter what happened.”

And Brian needed another napkin.

As did I.

“You know what db, my step-dad is a very loyal man, a loving man who takes care of his family…”

I know where this is going, I just let it come.

“…I think in some weird way I was led to him, that Jesus chose this path for me that would place me with a man to raise me like James so that my children would grow up without the problems in their lives that plagued my biological father. I think Jesus broke that dysfunctional cycle on purpose for me…”

What if a ‘weird way’ was really all planned.

“…for me and my children, I think he put James there on purpose…”

What if…

“…God knew that the best thing for me, for my family, for my two boys, was James…”

…nothing happens by chance.

“…I know my step-dad loves me, and I know I love him.”

What if, the universe knows when you disintegrate, and sends to you three stories of the heart…

What if the universe knows…

…of the love of step-dads…

…of the power of love to steady tremors…

…of the joy that confetti can bring…

…of the miracle that Barb brought to my life.

I think so.

“…before you know it.”
Don’t Miss It
Francesca Battistelli

Love you babe, see you in a couple of weeks,

db

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
John Lennon