Tag Archives: lifelessons

life lessons, philosophy

Melodies of life

Melodies of Life (Everybody Has a Song)

Not long ago a friend of mine called me and told me how much he loved my family. It seems Rob ran into the Houston conglomerate of our band of crazies on my niece’s 17th birthday. The patrons of good Company Taqueria were being treated to a Nelson version of the Beatles’ I Saw Her Standing There, with slightly altered words; after all, “She Was Just 17…”

My sister Theresa turns memories into lyrics for almost every occasion. While slightly embarrassing to the recipient, and some of the performers if the venue is public, when you wake up on your birthday you smile with anticipation of Tessie’s serenade. When I was four or five, she recorded me singing Rag Time Cowboy. Years later, I was turned into that cowboy through the magic of her loving devotion and thoughtful creativity.

Yesterday, I found a note I’d written years ago that spoke of Theresa’s tributes. I can’t be sure when it was written, as there was no date, but there is little doubt it was during a tough stretch. The simple clue was the line that mentioned looking in the mirror. Reflection isn’t always easy.

My song has a few rough chords in it. I simply hope that when the last verse is heard a happy note rings in the air.

The unfinished piece definitely crosses a few genres when it plays in my head. The heartache and breakdown of a country song; The hard charging mess of a heavy metal calamity, the upbeat rhythm of Bill Withers’ Lovely Day, the power of a Led Zeppelin masterpiece and the peace of love songs. Though not finished, all in all, not a bad tune. When the stage is cleared, all I can hope is that the resounding ring in the listener’s ear is that of the memories we made for those still around to hear the song.

We can affect the melody, but we cannot control the tempo of the music. We can write the words and even then, as someone sang, the words still might not come out right. We can walk out on stage with the arrangement just so, but in the end it’s just a jam session. One thing is for certain, we can dance to whatever beat is playing. Enjoy the music and dance your ass off.

Will

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dads, fathers, life lessons, love, Uncategorized

Anticipation

December 27, 2014

Anticipation
It’s 4:23. The alarm isn’t set to go off until 5 and I’ve been up since 3:30. William is asleep in the room adjacent to me and I’m sure sawing timber. Me, no chance of anymore rest. We meet at the barn at 6:10 to load the 4 wheelers and get to the blinds!

Whether its hunting or fishing I’m like this every trip. Giddy with anticipation, I can hear the geese screaming and the Mallards deep distinctive call even now. I can picture the darkness before dawn which will hide the first teal buzz.

While I’d be excited no matter the trip, this morning brings indescribable joy because of the 15 year old in the next room. He’s hunted pheasant, dove and deer. William’s caught speckled trout, redfish, king mackerel, flounder, largemouth and more, but he’s never been in a duck blind.

Never has he heard a rice field full of ducks and geese chatter in the dark. Sensed the rise of a huge group from the water by the sound of simultaneous wing motion. He’ll try to strain his eyes, yet only be able to imagine the birds movement as darkness conceals their flight.

The walk down the levy will be slow and unsure. The light of the flashlight not exactly revealing what is to come next. I’m sure there will be a stuck boot here or there.

The excitement of the slide into the blind will be aided by the boys fascination with what the Labrador retriever is doing; where he’s going to set up. Anticipation will rise for his first call to action.
Once in the blind we’ll load our guns and talk about barrel swing limits and shooting lanes. I’ll ask about his safety for the 500th time of the morning and finally we’ll settle into the silence before shooting time.

The color will start to go from pitch black to soft; from there to gray and hearts will start to pound a little harder. The light will rise just enough. There will be no orange today as the rain is here and the clouds will be low. The sounds that of drops hitting rain jackets. Then out of seemingly nowhere the first group will be on us.

Hard and fast with wings cupped and webbed feet extended beautiful waterfowl will break over our decoys. The words simply, ” Take ‘Em!” Through tears of joy I’ll see that first barrel rise.
God bless nature, this morning and my son. There is nothing more amazing than time with your kids no matter what you are doing; To me the earlier in the morning the better. I guess it’s all about those beginnings.

Thank you Lord for this day, the next moment and all the great moments spent between Father and son in the field. Thank you for this sunrise and these raindrops, thank you for this opportunity. I am a lucky man.

Gotta go, the alarm finally went off.
Will
Sent from my iPhone

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dads, fathers, Fear, life lessons, love, philosophy, your last day

The Ledger

No one who ever asked my dad for help left disappointed. Dad didn’t have much, but knew he had it all. Frankly, whether asked or not he would help those in need. The only thing he didn’t share was where the fish were…

I watched him over a pile of bills many times at the dinning room table, sorting “pay nows” and “float”. He’d sigh as he rose, turn right around and give $100 to someone in a jam.

It didn’t always seem to be the best decision making, but he always did what needed doing. He’d figure out the rest.

Maybe it all traced back to the day he lay dying on a battlefield in Saipan, a bullet hole through his chest. An exit wound, four times the size of the impact point, through his back. I imagine many “if I live” promises being made to the Man upstairs on that day in 1944.

I wonder if “as many children as I can possibly have” was one of those promises:)? Course he’d have to find a Saint to collaborate on that Front. What were the other words uttered? What thoughts flashed through the young Marine’s mind?

I’m certain that going into every battle my father was afraid to die, but he would do what he had to do. Just as strong is my belief that as he lay on rocky ground dying his fear of mortality disappeared. It was in God’s hands. I never met a man more resolute that God has a plan.

Being on the brink can free a person from the shackles that fear battles to enslave us in. The trick is to be able to unlock those restraints without the unwanted kickstart of a bullet through the chest.

Dad was not always right. He was in fact, quite often wrong. Never was there a man more perfectly imperfect. He made the best decisions possible, given the circumstances at hand. Then he acted. Fear could go fuck itself. What I’d give to live like that….

We all make the best decisions we know how. Certainly, we are wrong at least 50% of the time. Let me give you a little tip. Every answer you give and action we take which is based in fear has a much higher probability of being on the debit side of our ledger.

I want to tell you I am, quite assuredly, not able to shirk the ropes of fear anywhere close to 100 % of the time, but I’m getting better! Sure it’s a “do as I say not as I do” thing, however it is solid good dope. Just look back on a few key decisions you’ve made. How’d the ones based in fear work out? What about those made with nothing but confidence? I bet I know the answer.

There were and are many men and women on this earth able to live there lives like each day is the last. Dad had the privilege of walking in those ranks. Each of our worlds would be brighter if we could do the same. Decisions made out of love, respect and consciousness carry the collective strength of the universe as their ally. The makings of a mighty team in my opinion.

Power through your day with confidence. Act decisively with the best intentions. You never know what might happen.

Here’s to you all. Go get some!

Will

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Uncategorized

The Live Well

Fishing With Dad

Fishing With Dad

John Zaloom has been my friend for 100 years (figuratively speaking of course) and a little comment he made on a Facebook post made me so happy.
“Anybody who hung out with Will had to fish.”
Zaloom was so much smarter than me. Somehow he thought he could throw a football better, but I’ll have to let that slide because I wasn’t any good at it either. I shall not digress less my momentary lucidity pass…
I am a fisherman. My daddy, who’s birthday is today made me one. A damn good one, if I don’t say so myself. He also shaped me in so many other ways.
Dad taught me how to finesse a lure and about unique presentation… in life and on the water. There was never another Dave Nelson and there won’t ever  be. He and mom laid down a rough outline, taught me how to look a person in the eye, give a firm handshake and then go fishing. AKA.. Roll with it. 

 

When we fished, and because we did so often, we caught all manner of species of aquatic life. I once caught a triple tail in a foot of water. Another day, we waded into a hundred thousand baby sand eels. I caught momma, in darkness before dawn, as the water shown florescent green around me. We caught 50 blowfish on another traipse through the Bolivar pocket;  Didn’t know what they were until one expanded in Bubba’s hand. There was always a surprise on the end of the line. 

 

With an easy smile and sparkling blue eyes dad attracted a wonderful grab bag of friends, just like the fish. He taught us all how to welcome people and opportunity. He was kind to every person he ever met ( except for maybe a few Japs in 1942).  He fished. 
When I wasn’t fishing with dad I was dragging people to brickyard pond behind the old Red Carpet Inn, as John pointed out. The only time I ever went inside the hotel was a day dad picked us up from school early to meet Jimmy Carter during his run for the Presidency. However, I spent many waking hours behind the hotel fishing the little pond. Most of the time I was on a rock in the back left corner. That little rock was my best friend’s, Wilton Dalfrey, and my favorite spot. We made some big plans on that tiny island.  You see it was a little way out in the water.
I drug people on those trips because you could get to know one another. You could have adventures… see snakes, maybe an alligator!  You might also just catch something. Mainly though, you could be with a friend or two.  I have never thought about that much until the fortunate little post.
Thank you to Tommy Hurlburt, Allen Wynn, Zaloom and Shawn Grady for bringing to the forefront the memories I had stored away, but certainly not forgotten. Thanks to Wilton, wherever he may be, for all the fun days and for not letting me jump in the flooded flowing drainage ditch when it was apt to send me to the proverbial drain. Thank you Daddy for teaching me how to fish.

 

When you cast a line you never know what you might catch. Every once in awhile you might land a hard head, but in my experience the longer your bait is in the water the more keepers you’ll put in the boat. 

 

Thank you all for biting and creating my “live well”.  You have made life so much fun…

 

Every interaction we have makes an impression on someone. That point couldn’t have been more clearly pointed out in such a simple way today. Know that the little things you do and every kind word you say matters. In short, fish.
On what would have been my best friend’s 94th birthday I want to toast you all. I’d like to say, live, laugh, love and figuratively as well as literally, put a line in the water… You never know what you might catch.
William Joseph Nelson.

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