db: Save a seat for Uncle Buff at BASSfest

“When I find myself in times of trouble…”

Dateline: BASSfest 2016

“Where is the good in goodbye?”
~ The Music Man

God made the stars so that we would look up.

God knew we needed the stars and heavens above so that we could say goodbye to friends and loved ones who have left this earth.

So it was, in total darkness on a Farm To Market road I pulled my rental car off to the side, got out and looked up.

And said goodbye to, Uncle Buff.

Under his beloved Oklahoma sky.

I wondered, which star is yours my friend, which star are you…

“…Mother Mary comes to me…”

Hold tight young ones to those you love, hold tight to family, to friends because growing old is all about how fragile life is, how easy that tight hold can let go.

Life, I’m afraid to say, is learning that, yesterday never comes back.

The moment we are in is the only given we’ve got.  Trust not that tomorrow will come, for some day, it won’t.

Being alive is the number one cause of being dead.

I search for God more than most, maybe too much, I search with wonder about what this thing called life is, I look for miracles as proof of the almighty while I know deep down inside, know through getting old that if you need proof of miracles you need only look into a mirror.

You need only to look into the eyes of a child.

The dark horizon to horizon star filled Oklahoma sky shows you where the miracle of this universe is…we are standing on it.

Life itself, is the miracle.

“…and when the night…”

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
Thomas Meehan & Carol Sobieski
Annie

125 miles from the BASSfest weigh-in sits the grave of my great friend, Mike Armor, to me, eternally, “Uncle Buff.” There will be no bigger fan watching over this event than Uncle Buff.

Mike Armor is the man waving, he is waving to Elite angler J Todd Tucker, a close relative…
…and this is the “Uncle Buff,” I know, my great friend.

If you think this BASSfest thing is some sort of fan gimmick, look at that chair with Uncle Buff’s name on it, know that B.A.S.S. not only let me drive 250 miles round trip to visit his grave in Duncan, Okla., but gave me a BASS hat to lay at his gravesite.

That is extraordinary heart from a sports organization.

We ain’t kidding that we care about the fans.

Let me tell you about today.

“…is cloudy…”

For those of you who don’t know anything about fishing to think that it is only all about the fish is akin to thinking that Neil Armstrong discovered the moon.

Fishing is about friendships, it is about camaraderie, it’s about who you invite into your boat.

To invite you into my boat is to invite you into my life.

From Day 1 of my being in this gig, Uncle Buff invited me into his boat, even though I’m not sure he even had a boat.

He was Oklahoma, I am New York. He was the plains, I am the Boulevards. He was Halliburton, I am Hippie. We were a match made…nowhere.

But there is something special within the soul of those who fish, there is a spiritual nature, there is a kindness nature, there is the buddy in the boat thing.

Uncle Buff and I became instant friends, I know not of one Elite tournament I have been at that at some point he wasn’t at my side, this is Elite #6 of 2016, and I still can’t stop myself from looking for his face in the crowd.

And I mourn him not there.

“…there is still a light that shines on me…”

In my heart there is no bigger spot than for the fans of this sport, I know firsthand of your kindness, of your caring, of your prayers.

I knew nothing of you 10 years ago, 10 years from now I will never forget you.

You make this game bigger than the game.

You have led me a little ways down the path to the belief in God, to the belief in heaven, and I thank you for that because without your gentle guidance I’m not sure I could have stood at Uncle Buff’s grave this morning, and not implode within.

I drove the two hours listening to one song over and over and over: Let It Be.

Hoping that somewhere in the rolling hills, the plains of Oklahoma someone, something would speak words of wisdom to me.

Oklahoma, I have two friends now buried with it’s soil, Ken Cook and Uncle Buff, and because of that, Oklahoma will always be for me, sacred ground.

I drove by those iron things that go up and down, I’m not sure what they are, some business gold being sucked out of the earth I suppose.

I drove under hawks and around armadillos, small towns and crossroads with just a house or two.  

Some businesses open some closed, I slowed down to watch the people in the small towns, some held hands, some wore cowboy hats, all seemed to be decent, hard-working people.

I drove up the backbone of America today.

I stopped a few times, breathed in the air, bent down and touched the soil.

I wanted to know, to feel, to smell, this place that Uncle Buff loved so much, that made him what he was, I needed to see it with my feet on the ground and not from 30,000 feet.

I drove slow.

“…shine until tomorrow…”

At his grave I left a hat, and drops of tears.

I couldn’t find it at first, this grave of his, outside it was hot, it was still, the Oklahoma plains were silent this morning, I walked among the sons and daughters of Duncan, walked gentle, walked reverently, head bowed.

But no Uncle Buff.

Then, in the middle of section 45 I whispered, whispered words of wisdom, “Come on dude, show me where you are, invite me on your boat man it is hot out here. Don’t do this to me.”

And gently, as if a finger tip just swept the back of my hair, a tiny wind came up from behind me and as I turned around an American Flag caught that finger tip of wind and stood up straight, and when I looked down below and a little over some from the flag, there was Uncle Buff’s grave.

Uncle Buff is buried in his hometown of Duncan, Oklahoma next to his wife, Brenda.

I hope it is true that someday we will meet again, as I knelt down and placed the BASS hat on his stone I told him I missed him, told him I loved him, and thanked him for inviting me on his boat.

Goodbye my friend, you will be in my heart, my soul, forever.

You fans of the sport, you who fish, please never lose that something special you carry inside of you. I know now why the man named Christ surrounded himself with you of the fish.

I talked to Uncle Buff several hours before he died last December, didn’t know it was our last talk, but the last words he spoke to me were simply this, “I love you man,” to which I said, “Love you too dude.”

I’m okay with that, love is the last word we all should hear, I’m glad it was the last he heard from me. I hope it is the last word I say on earth.

Tell those you love, you love them, tell them much, tell them often, write love notes, whisper love into their ear.

Too late, is too late.

A couple days before Uncle Buff passed away he wrote this on my Facebook page: “Travel safe my friend. BUFF”

I will travel safe because Uncle Buff will always be a part of me, and in some small way so will you who come up to me and say hello, shake my hand, take a selfie or become a “friend” on Facebook.

Godspeed my friend Uncle Buff, I will always look for your face in the crowd of fans, I will always save you a seat.

And at every early morning launch I will stand on the dock and look to the early morning dark sky and wonder…

…which one are you Uncle Buff…

…which star are you.

 “…whisper words of wisdom.”
Let It Be
The Beatles

db

“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
~Theodor Seuss Geisel
Dr. Seuss