As you may know, I don’t host many blog tours. But Stephen’s excerpt was just too good to pass on! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
4 Wills “Been There, Going Again” Blog Tour, Stephen Geez
Day 7
Greetings, friends! Welcome to the last stop on my 4WillsPublishing Blog Tour celebrating the re-issue of my memoir-shorts, Been There, Noted That: Essays in Tribute to Life. It has updated cover, new graphics, new book trailer, and now a first-ever jacketed hardcover edition. The book’s ruminations range from light and humorous to heartbreakingly poignant, but all spring from my own experiences. Thanks for visiting, trying this sample, and commenting!
Here to Fish
Essay by Stephen Geez
“Leave that ol’ snake alone!”
Aunt Mary was growing impatient with me, but never before had I seen a snake like that, especially one so big. “Ain’t nothin’ but a chicken snake. He won’t bother you.”
I was nine or ten at the time, fascinated by every kind of critter, and known for catching more than a few to bring home. In my neighborhood up north, harmless two-foot garters were my idea of serious snakes, so I’d been sternly warned before embarking on this summer-vacation trip that Tennessee woods seethed with the likes of deadly copperheads, rattlers, cottonmouths, and radiation-hybrid pythonized cobras at least forty feet long . . .
“Leave that snake alone. We’re here to fish.”
My great-aunt Mary’s world impressed me as very different from my own. She and Uncle Carl lived in a ramshackle homestead in the kind of backwoods holler where salamanders sculpt swishes in the mud and hairy spiders bide their time knitting decorative hangings for the outhouse eaves. Mary impressed me as a tough bird—a couple hundred years old, I was pretty sure—who worked hard, honored the Scriptures, and loved her family. To see her eyes sparkle, you need only say, “Would you like to go fish—” Before you could finish the invitation, she’d be piling into the car, ready to roll.
That chicken snake found us along the Tennessee River near New Johnsonville. My father left Mary and me at the end of the old bridge road, a causeway long since abandoned and overgrown, while he and my cousin explored the other side. Mary liked to keep her fishing simple, so as we sat there contentedly amid piles of rocks and great jagged shards of concrete, our state-of-the-art precision gear consisted of cane poles and a bucket.
The sun shimmered low in the sky, dappling the water with swirling sparkles of silver and gold. Weary trees hung over us, weeping the fleeting tears of ephemeral willowflies. Schools of bream and bluegills swarmed in a frenzy below the surface, gorging on the all-you-can-eat willowfly smorgasbord. Catching a pan-sizer simply required reaching up for a fly to thread on the hook, then flipping it onto the water, waiting five seconds, and claiming the prize.
That’s when the snake appeared, right out from under my rock.
He was humongous, at least six feet—if not forty feet or more—black as the night, and I’m pretty sure I could see the blood of naïve little boys dripping from his fangs. After Mary’s assurance that he engendered no mortal threat, that old snake piqued my interest considerably more than fishing. Using a long stick, I urged him to slither about, then followed him crevice to crack to cubbyhole as his attention gradually shifted from seeking a tasty meal to eluding this nuisance kid.
“Get over here and fish. Leave that ol’ snake alone!”
The snake and I paused to eye each other warily. Breaking the tension, I poked him again . . .
And he took off!—a hundred miles an hour straight toward Aunt Mary!
She leapt to her feet, flung the cane pole aside, then snatched up a huge log at least twice her size and proceeded to beat that snake within an inch of his life. The poor feller eventually managed to escape, and we never saw him again. I sat there laughing so hard I couldn’t catch my breath.
“You hush now,” was all Mary said as she returned to her fishing.
I decided right then that if I were a snake under a rock, I’d want to be warned:
Don’t mess with Aunt Mary.
I’ve always tried to learn from others, searching for meaning in the minutiae of everyday life, those pearls of wisdom that too often slip by unnoticed, so I watched the grown-ups’ reactions as I told and retold my Aunt Mary snake story, always earning hearty laughs. Their comments led me to another conclusion:
Advice is easier to give to somebody with a snake under his rock than it is to heed when the snake is under your own.
Many years later I had a chance to go out there with Aunt Mary again. You can see the causeway from the observation deck at Nathan Bedford State Park, but it’s mostly washed away now, eroded by the currents of time and change. There are still places to sit by the water and fish for bream, though, or to reminisce about conquests past. I reminded Mary about that hilarious incident with the chicken snake. She smiled, but I don’t think she found it very amusing.
“That snake wasn’t botherin’ nobody,” she said, “until you started pokin’ him with that stick.” Suddenly, my story had new meaning:
Live and let live.
He’d never have panicked Aunt Mary if I’d not scared him into fleeing.
There’s plenty of room in the world for snakes, and they certainly play a vital role in the life cycles along the banks of a river. We were out there catching our dinner and, well, so was he. Too many people spend too much time worrying over how others live, poking each other with all manner of sticks instead of learning how to share a pile of rocks in one little corner of the universe.
The last time I ever saw Aunt Mary was right after Uncle Carl died. My father and I went to see her, and for the first time, this increasingly frail woman didn’t light up and wonder if we planned to go fishing. She had some new silk flowers, and she wanted a ride out to Carl’s grave.
I’d never visited the old cemetery there in middle-Tennessee, my first chance to see headstones commemorating five generations of kin. Mary pointed out each one, weaving tales about the lifetimes of people I never knew, her eyes glistening with the memories. We picked our way through some tall grass, and I wanted to warn her about snakes, but that story didn’t seem so funny anymore, plus I had a lump in my throat, so I let her talk, and I listened.
We cleaned up Carl’s grave, clearing the windblown debris that nature scatters indifferently, while Mary stood vigil and nodded approval. I wanted to take her fishing right then, but the time wasn’t right. It turned out there would never be another chance.
Mary and Carl are buried side-by-side now, and when I think about that old snake I realize I’d figured out something else listening to her stories and watching her place flowers in honor of the man who’d shared her life. She’d said it that day the snake came around looking for a tasty meal, but I was too young to understand:
“We’re here to fish.”
I’ll bet countless generations of chicken snakes since then have warned their young’ns to watch out for Mary . . .
But it’s moments in time that we have to watch for. No matter what you do, or where you go, or how hard you try, there will always be snakes in one form or another crossing your path, and there will be only so many days in a year when sunshine dapples the water while trees weep willowflies and schools of bream gorge . . .
And there will be only so many days in a lifetime when a tough old bird who works hard and loves her family can share this splendor with a grandnephew who lives too far away.
Fish while you can . . .
Then cherish those moments, and don’t be distracted by snakes.
Author Bio
Writer, editor, publisher, TV producer, music composer, entrepreneur and more, Stephen Geez has long honed a keen eye for the foibles of human nature. His writing since taking undergrad and grad degrees at Michigan includes novels and short stories in various genres from literary to mystical adventure, non-fiction covering academic to how-to, commercial arts spanning corporate training to consumer advertising, and web-based content including the collections at StephenGeez.com and GeezWriter.com. Easing gingerly into his second half-century, he can’t hop, skip, or jump like the old days, but he never stops noticing and taking notes.
- Trailer URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lw_mo5wtTMI
- Amazon URL: https://www.amazon.com/Been-There-Noted-That-Observations/dp/1947867148/
- Barnes & Noble URL: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/been-there-noted-that-stephen-geez/1113808078?ean=9781947867147
This tour is sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com. Prizes up for grabs… (Visit the 4WillsPublishing website for more details!)
*For each day: 1 hardcover edition of Been There, Note That.
*During the entire tour:$25 Amazon card.
Charles Yallowitz said:
Reblogged this on Legends of Windemere.
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The Owl Lady said:
Reblogged this on Viv Drewa – The Owl Lady.
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Marcia said:
Loved this! Good advice, all, but my favorite line is “salamanders sculpt swishes in the mud and hairy spiders bide their time knitting decorative hangings for the outhouse eaves.” Totally wonderful! Shared, too. 🙂
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Thank you so much, Marcia! Stephen’s prose is amazing 🙂
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Stephen Geez said:
Thank you, Marcia. Yeah, one of those spiders sent an invoice for decoration fees. Never trust a spider. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I encourage you to try more of the 54, as they offer quite a variety of topics and even variations in style. Thanks for sharing, too, and to Nicholas for the kind words and for sharing his popular and valuable blog.
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
It was great having over, Stephen 🙂
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Marcia said:
In all my long life, I’ve never trusted any animal–or situation–involving eight hairy legs. 😀 And I’ve already downloaded this book. I’m looking forward to it very much! The excerpt was a delight.
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Gracie Bradford said:
One of the best Stephen. Thanks Nichols.
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
I, too, loved it 🙂
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Stephen Geez said:
Thanks, both. Odd twist: this is the first one in the book, but seemed like a good way to close the tour. I am indebted to both of you.
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Patricia A. Guthrie said:
Love this story. Aunt Mary belongs on the top of the humane society roster.
Also, loved the top banner. Good job Stephen.
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Stephen Geez said:
Keen observation, Patricia. I appreciate your support, and I’m glad you liked the essay. Best to you.
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jinlobify said:
Lovely story, although I don’t like snakes. And yet, I come from a place where people worship them. 😂 Thank you, Nicholas, for the support.
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Stephen Geez said:
I think Aunt Mary would appreciate your aversion to the slithery sorts. Thanks for the visit and support, Joy.
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Snake-worshiping snakes? The missus will to steer well clear of that place 😀
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jinlobify said:
😈
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Book Island said:
Beautiful story, Mr. Geez. Thank you for sharing.
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beemweeks said:
Another gem of a story.
Thanks for hosting, Nicholas.
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Stephen Geez said:
Another precious-metal of a comment! Thanking you, I am. You’re my witness how pleased I was to learn my last stop on this tour would be over here where I refer more people than any other site. It’s not hyperbole to say I’m proud to be featured on Nicholas’s blog. Woohoo!
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
You’re too kind, Stephen! Thank you 🙂
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Thanks for dropping by, Beem 🙂
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D.L Finn, Author said:
Good advice to fish while you can. Even makes we want to go fishing again….also a good point not to poke at snake so it has to run away causing other problems. I enjoyed your tour and can’t wait to read the other stories
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Stephen Geez said:
Words to live by! Thanks, D.L. Such compliments are highly valued from such a fine author.
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Wendy Scott said:
Stephen, your tour has been amazing. Thanks for sharing all your insightful life snippets with us.
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Stephen Geez said:
I’m proud you found some snippets you like. Thanks!
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rijanjks said:
This is another great excerpt from Stephen. I have enjoyed this tour!
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Stephen Geez said:
So have I, Jan. So have I. Thanks for the support!
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Soooz said:
“Advice is easier to give to somebody with a snake under his rock than it is to heed when the snake is under your own.” What a wonderful line! How wonderful it would be for all children to have an “Aunt Mary” in their lives. Thanks for sharing your talent with us, Stephen. Thanks for hosting today, Nicholas.
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Stephen Geez said:
I second that thanks to Nicholas. I always enjoy your thoughtful comment, Soooz. Thanks for everything this past week and before and after and to come! Yay!
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Soooz said:
I garner great pleasure in supporting talented authors, my friend. It increases my daily sunshine factor.🦋
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Wise words, indeed. Thank you for dropping by 🙂
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~Mar said:
Another wonderful stop, and an awesome way (and place!) to end your tour. Thank you for sharing your stories with us, Stephen. It’s been an amazing blog tour. And thank you, Nicholas, for always been a lovely host.
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Thank you so much, Mar! It was great to host Stephen 🙂
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Shirley Harris-Slaughter said:
It seems like there are a lot of life lessons to be learned from this story. Lets take from it what we can because there is a different meaning for each person who reads it – in my opinion.
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Stephen Geez said:
Exactly my intent, Shirley. Thanks!
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
Wise words. Absolutely true–for any story 🙂
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tracikenworth said:
That was awesome and hilarious!
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Stephen Geez said:
Cool comment, Traci. Thanks for visiting.
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Nicholas C. Rossis said:
So glad you enjoyed it, Traci 😀
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kimwrtr said:
Reblogged this on Kim's Author Support Blog.
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