隐喻挺明显的——father's home, father's teaching, their professions, fishing, a fisherman or a boxer, father's instruction about fishing, the high road, make a killing, words of the waters, billion-year-old rocks, lo-lo hot spring...
- You can bet everyone from here to Helena knows the details of your education. lt is an achievement. To what use shalI you put this achievement?
- l'm considering the Forest Service.
- As a career?
- No. For the summer.
- As a break.
- That's a good idea. The body rules the mind.
- That's what I was thinking.
- And after?
- I'm not sure yet.
- You've had six years to become sure. Have you considered an advanced degree? The law? Medicine? The ministry?
- I've applied for severaI teaching positions.
- Have you?
- College level. I haven't heard yet.
- No, it's early. You have taught classes already, haven't you?
- Did you find that rewarding? That is to say, do you feeI this could be your calling?
- My calling?
- In Montana, three things we're never late for: church, work and fishing.
P- Couldn't you find him?
N- The helI with him.
- I thought we were supposed to help him.
- How the helI do you help that son of a bitch?
- By taking him fishing.
- He doesn't like fishing. Doesn't like Montana. Sure as helI doesn't like me.
- Well...maybe what he likes is somebody trying to help him.
- Why is it that people who need the most help...won't take it?
- I don't know.
- Norman, what's the matter?
- He's not funny.
- Pardon me?
- He's not funny.
- There are more important accomplishments, Norman. It's alI right it you're dull. We're very proud of you.
- I do have one story. No murder, no mayhem. I interviewed the President.
- Calvln Coolidge? The President? Mr. Coolldge? When?
- A tew days ago. He was in Dakota, fly-fishing.
- Fly-tishlng in a suit and tie, white gloves and patent-leather shoes. I asked him. I went right up to him. I said, Excuse me, sir. Can you telI me what they're biting on?'' He says, The end of my line.''
- What? What?
- The end of my line. Then some of the locals came over, tied on a fly the size of a chicken. Ol' Cal, he heaves it out there. Figured if he can't catch a trout, he'lI scare one to death,
- Did you get a picture?
- Yeah. It'lI be in the Sunday paper. “Closemouthed CaI communes with the crappies.”
- Mother, that was amazing.
- He usually only eats what he can hit on the road.
- That was funny.
- I do worry about you.
- I'm gonna run over...I was just going to say...I thought I'd go meet some of the old pals, being in town. Don't you wait up. I plan on eating the rest of this when nobody's looking.
- I understand he's changed the spelling of our name. “Maclean,” with a capitaI “L”. Now everyone wilI think we're lowland Scots.
- I'm in love with Jessie Burns.
- Jesus Christ, Norm.
- With alI the fish in the river.
- Not like her.
- Oh, right.
- Not like her.
- Where are we? Where are we going?
- Lolo. Figured you felt lucky tonight. I could use some of the luck.
- Jesus Christ!
- No, don't. Don't be the professor tonight. Preacher.
- Remember those rocks we used to build our fireplace? Those were big rocks.
- Nearly a billion years old.
- Halt a billion, Norman. I believe the high road wilI suit me better.
- There was a time. You'lI make a killing. He'lI make a killing.
- Let's fish together today.
- What are they biting on?
- What are they bitlng on?
- I said--
- Bunyon bugs.
- Why don't you come with us to Chicago? It's 2,000 miles away. They've got more than a dozen papers there. You'd be right in the middle of things. What do you say? Come with us.
- I'lI never leave Montana, brother.
- Oh me, oh my! Look at that fish! Unbelievable!
[At that moment I knew surely and clearly...that I was witnessing perfection. ]
- You are a fine fisherman.
- Only need three more years before I can think like a fish.
- You're already thinking like a deadstone fly. Pictures! Mother's pictures.
[My brother stood before us, not on a bank of the Big Blackfoot River...but suspended above the earth...free from alI its laws, like a work of art. And I knew just as surely and just as clearly...that life is not a work of art...and that the moment could not last. When the police awakened me one morning before Jessie and I left for Chicago...I rose and asked no questions. He drove me back home down the length of the river...So that I could telI my father and mother...that PauI had been beaten to death by the butt of a revolver...and his body dumped in an alley. ]
- ls there anything else you can telI me?
- Nearly alI the bones in his hand were broken.
- Which hand?
- His right hand.
[As time passed, my father Struggled for more to hold onto...asking me again and again had I told him everything. Finally I said to him..."Maybe alI I really know about Paul...is that he was a fine fisherman. " You know more than that," my father Said. "He was beautiful. " ]
[That was the last time we ever spoke of my brother's death. Indirectly, though, PauI was always present in my father's thoughts. I remember the last sermon I heard him give not long before his own death. ]
- Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives, look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question. We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed?''
It is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it ls those we live with and should know who elude us but we can stilI love them. We can love completely without complete understanding.
[Now nearly alI those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead. Even Jessie. But I stilI reach out to them. Of course, now I'm too old to be much of a fisherman. And now I usually fish the big waters alone although Some friends think I shouldn't. But when I am alone in the half-light of the canyon, alI existence Seems to fade to a being with my SouI and memories, and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish wilI rise. Eventually, alI things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On Some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters. ]
INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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