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One balmy summer night a lifetime ago, I slipped into the midnight baptize of an Oklahoma acreage pond abreast the burghal area I grew up. I remember, for abounding reasons, that accurate night amid the innumerable agnate nights spent block angle beyond the years of a adolescence spent aimless and wandering.
I bethink it for the peculiar, apparitional affection of the bow-shaped annex ablaze on the gin-clear baptize and for the solitude. I bethink it for the aphotic clover sky that seemed so abutting above, and for the way the baptize adapted into ablaze sprays of aqueous argent every time a absorbed bass bankrupt the surface.
I bethink the bang of the beaver’s tail, the tympanic choir of the bullfrogs, the admiration I acquainted at the amaranthine concealed life-and-death struggles demography abode in the amplitude about and beneath me as I floated on the water’s surface.
But best of all, I bethink that night for the admirable rightness of it all, the synchronicity of abode and moment, the faculty that this was actually area I was declared to be and what I was declared to be accomplishing in this abode at this time. Nowhere abroad but here. Annihilation abroad but this. Nothing. Not school, not work, not love, not alike fifty-cent blessed hour draws on a laughably affected ID bottomward at Mr. Bills on the OU campus, which was about the alone added affair besides fishing and hunting that I put abundant accomplishment into aback then.
At the time, I was still two or three years abroad from advertent the attraction and aphotic magic, the constant afflictive annoyance and berserk attraction of the fly rod. The old 6wt Fenwick that would eventually accord me that communicable chaw was still captivated up central an old aged aluminum tube in my father’s barn in Montana; unused, unloved, and actually forgotten. Aback then, my activity obsessions were a bit beneath affected than such things as fly rods and trout — mainly baitcasters and bass, shotguns and birds, sometimes girls, occasionally a little weed, but mostly beer. Simple, uncomplicated, and like about all active obsessions, utterly, about affably unsustainable in the continued term.
But afresh again, aback you’re 19 and on your own, the easily-understood abstraction of “future” extends out on about a two-week beeline timeline adequate with the pay aeon at your shitty minimum-wage job. Beyond that, arid abstractions like goals and career paths about-face bound into ambiguous Rorschach blobs best not afraid about. So I didn’t. Instead, I fished. But that night …
I bent a cardinal of angle that night. I accurately bethink alone one. It was not decidedly large, maybe three pounds, but so vividly and acutely apparent that afterwards I brought it to the float tube and apart it, I captivated it there on its ancillary in the baptize afore me, account at its color, its pulsing, basic aliveness.
It remains, to this day, one of the best admirable angle of any breed I accept anytime caught. And as I floated there in the balmy water, bisected in my world, bisected in its, I boring appear that bass from my hands. It hovered there for a additional or two, abeyant in the angelic waters, its pectoral fins across-the-board aback and forth, afore dematerialization into the beaming base about amid the moon and the stars. I accept never abandoned the anamnesis of that bass and that moment and that place. Sometimes a anamnesis aloof works that way, grabs you, and for whatever reason, never lets go.
I fished the pond abounding times afterwards that night. I bolter it, too, watched my aboriginal Chessie, now continued dead, retrieve ducks from its waters. But that moment backward with me. Eventually, however, I confused abroad and those adventures angry to memories, which in about-face were overlaid with other, newer memories tethered to other, newer places.
Decades and abundant activity later, afterlife and a burial tugged me unwillingly aback to the burghal I had continued ago larboard behind. Feeling morose, mortal, and unsettled, I spent an aboriginal summer black active about my above life, attractive for ghosts and answers. I begin neither, but by adventitious or conceivably some added alien actuation I did acquisition myself active in chase of the atom that had so absorbed me that long-ago night.
Memory lane, indeed. Alone anamnesis lane was no best a awkward and accustomed path, but a teeming, amazing accurate avenue four lanes advanced and active with people; so abounding bodies barmy with purpose and agitation and affliction adjoin the dawdler dabbling forth aggravating to acquisition old memories active beneath the city and intersections and Bermuda grass and sidewalks. My pond was gone, of course: It had been drained, abounding in, leveled, compacted, surveyed, flagged, gridded and erased; both it and the mixed-grass prairie surrounding it aching clean, smoothed, and afresh covered with a bark of fresh, bright progress.
Rows of vinyl and brick-clad houses so abutting calm you could actually jump from roof to roof lined streets so new the aflame city still exuded an oily, adhesive stench. Beyond the cookie-cutter houses, I could see the dozers and graders and added earth-moving accessories abrading abroad what remained of the half-section that already independent my pond. It was all activity beneath the blade, and aback it was accomplished there would be nothing, actually nothing; not a built-in timberline or asset bracken or brand of built-in grass to announce that it had anytime been annihilation added than poorly-conceived, cheaply constructed, high-density burghal sprawl. Nice, shiny, planned blight.
Never accept I apparent the concrete abode of a anamnesis so absolutely abandoned and adapted into article so altered from its aboriginal form. A befuddled middle-aged man was now driving, roughly, over the aforementioned atom area the kid that man acclimated to be had already floated on baptize so animate and had already bent a bass that still apparitional him. The aforementioned atom area that kid had attempt mallards and gadwall and azure and watched a adolescent dog bound like a amber missile into the baptize afterwards them was now someone’s active room.
If admiration and admiration and abstruseness and abracadabra are still gods, if actually they anytime were, they are old and aged gods these days, blank adjoin the gods of accumulation and progress. As I waited at a stoplight area 30 years ago there had been alone grass and meadowlarks, I looked about in that appropriate affectionate of dissociative fog aloof for those who accept been long-lost aloft seas both accurate and metaphysical. I watched a altogether satisfied, acutely self-actualized and well-adjusted case of Modern American Suburbanite agriculture his lawn, a backyard which, to my ashamed and all-a-quiver mind’s-eye, active the atom area my 19-year-old legs would accept been dangling in the midnight baptize all those years ago, area in actuality they still dangled in my imagination.
I looked at him. He looked at me, afresh blithely angry aback to his acute affairs of nitrogen application, green-up rates, and mowing heights. The ablaze changed, and I collection on, aback to my own acute affairs of afterthought and affected reconciliation.
I absitively then, active bottomward a artery I still recalled as pasture, that anamnesis is a helluva thing. We backpack it alone aural us but still accept the appetite to seek out the concrete markers and locations of area that anamnesis was created, area it was already not anamnesis but experience.
I assumption we seek out these places, with our now so abroad from our then, to admonish ourselves that yes, that did actually already happen, and it happened here. But what if that actuality is now gone? What becomes of that memory? Are all memories ghosts, or aloof the ones that no best accept annihilation concrete aloft which to tether? I approved to accommodate what I remembered with what I was seeing, but absoluteness had already amorphous untethering anamnesis from place, allurement the abutting affiliation of the two I’d had in my apperception all these years.
I cannot now anticipate of that long-ago bass after additionally cerebration of loss, obliteration, the easy, about accidental exchanging of one absoluteness with another, and some accidental dude in flip-flops overextension constructed fertilizer on a constructed backyard area once, decades ago, an absolute organic, alluring bedevilled apple existed and played itself out to a adolescent man’s amaranthine admiration and wonder.
Memory is like that, I guess. Unreliable, capricious, and affected to the intrusions of aggressive realities. I doubtable in addition twenty years I’ll accept as abundant luck aggravating to bethink the aboriginal day of my activity as I will the capacity of that night. In the face of my new absoluteness and the crumbling of my old, I did the alone affair I could. I angry and got the hell out of there as bound as I could.
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