He didn’t fish. He hunted. Wandering over wooded mountains, and whispering through the wheat fields, I followed my grandfather into a broken forest. We climbed over long oaks, and we scaled fallen hemlock trunks to reach the other side of a small stream. My footsteps fell into his. He walked slowly — much slower than a boy’s patience could match. And when my eagerness overtook me, Grandfather turned to force my pause. He leaned in and granted me this wisdom: “Slowly, child. Life’s secrets are in these trees.”
He was gone before my sons were born.
And now, when I enter these forests, these forgotten tramps, miles away from industry and deep inside shaded canyons, the wet moss absorbs my footfalls and silences the mental rush of an average life. These muted and hushed moments are given for remembering — for reaching into the past. And I do remember him. I feel what he felt. Because we share the same blood, the same passions, the same determinate thirst for answers about our craft.
Connected forever, I follow his footsteps.
Grandfather
Domenick Swentosky — from the album, Afterlife (2008)
Grandfather as you move on through the clouds up to the sky
Won’t you draw a line connecting you to me
Through all that you have taught me and your blood flowing in me
You have left a trail of life I’ll try to follow for me
There was a permanent fall season to his presence
And he taught me to walk softly through the leaves
Saying, “Child if you will only take the time to look around
You will find life’s little secrets among the trees.”
Through the doorway to the forest he would enter
Close his eyes and feel the softness of the ground
With one motion, then another, with the patience of a hunter
He would walk across the mountains and back down
Grandfather as you move on through the clouds up to the sky
Won’t you draw a line connecting you to me
Through all that you have taught me and your blood flowing in me
You have left a trail of life I’ll try to follow for me
His soft voice made a friend of all who met him
And his stories could bring laughter to a crowd
Just the way he’d stop to think, hold a breath, and meet your stare
Made you feel like there was no one else around
Grandfather as you move on through the clouds up to the sky
Won’t you draw a line connecting you to me
Through all that you have taught me and your blood flowing in me
You have left a trail of life I’ll try to follow for me
Forever in motion, forever in motion
Forever in wonder, forever in wonder
Forever in motion, forever in motion
Forever in wonder, forever in wonder
With his bold hands he could build a man a kingdom
But never ask what might be in it for himself
Built a life by never stopping, always learning, always giving
He was a man of such great passion and great wealth
Grandfather as you move on through the clouds up to the sky
Won’t you draw a line connecting you to me
Through all that you have taught me and your blood flowing in me
You have left a trail of life I’ll try to follow for me
Photo by Josh Darling
Enjoy the day.
Domenick Swentosky
T R O U T B I T T E N
domenick@troutbitten.com
This reminds me of my grandfather, although his passion was crappie fishing.
Thanks for bringing up those memories.
Thanks for the song, Dom. It’s very moving.
Or is it a poem? Very touching, hope my grandchildren feel as you did for him.
And thanks for your blog, Dom. You take our fly fishing to a higher level, learning to slow down and appreciate more than getting the hook in the water.
Immense beauty in the story
My parents were state department wonks, never around much. My grandfather was my role model. He hunted and fished passionately and tried to teach his only grandson, who didn’t regret not paying attention as often as he should have until it was too late. Nicely said, Dom.
As a 73 year old grandfather, I know he’d be very proud of what he instilled in you, his grandson. Wonderful.
Cheers.
You are a poet. Thank you for the moment and the memories.