Then, we realize that at some point, a caring, skilled mechanic became the hands to give us the components to have the ability to do those things.
We do not do anything on our own. We always have someone with a wrench who can bend, tweak, repair or fabricate whatever we need to help us get forward and make the moves we need to make in order to feel like we are rescuing others, when in actuality; we are only merely surviving ourselves. Those are our mechanics.
Those are the engineers who give us the ability to move forward; to keep scratching and climbing those hills.
Sometimes those people stay with us throughout the whole journey, sometimes they move in at times, and sometimes they ride the trail for a while to ensure the journey continues, then get off and choose to “wrench” on someone else for a while.
But, those marks of the turns of a tool remain, and those of us that sometimes stop occasionally to peer at those scuffs and scratches remember where each one of them come from and recognize the impact that they all had on our lives.
I’ve got scuffs, I’ve got marks and dings that are part of the journey of life. They are not a part of a battle, because life is not a battle – it is life.
God never promised us an easy path. It is our cultural upbringing that has given us the belief that if we just work hard, good things will happen. However, life shows us that our assumptions are just not the case most of the time. Life happens, people give up, or they sometimes just do not recognize the people put into their lives that are meant to be mechanics.
Or, there are those of us who look up four, five, six seven, ten years from now and realize that apart from family, we were fortunate enough that there were people willing enough to be mechanics, that took the time to wrench away without us even truly realizing that they were helping in the process.
Most of us, dare I say, all of us have those people in our lives who decided that there was something more to their lives than just what was in it for them. They realized that the honors, talents, skills and earnings were worth far more by multiplying them in others than only in themselves.
Those people in turn gave us the opportunity to be our own wrenches in other people’s lives and locomotives, go carts or Humvees.
SPRING 2015
Whatever the case; when we do realize that there were far more people involved in our own path, and the road we have tried to travel than just ourselves, we owe it to everyone to say – “we get it, and we didn’t say it enough before.”
I decided to write for Westernbass all these years because it gave me the forum to write from my heart. This place, unlike all of my other “occupational” publications has long been the place that I could write what I felt, and as I sat here tonight finishing the job of posting the videos to help the anglers tell the story of their own 2015 Bassmaster Classic; I realized, I have lived mine all along the way.
There were no trophy ceremonies of my own, but there were those that meant so much more. There were no photo galleries and highlight films composed in my honor, but I realized that there were much more sincere and heartfelt efforts made – with no regard for what was in it for themselves that allowed me to do what I do – for my family.
I live my Classic every day, and the ability to be here, and help one, two, three - or 53 anglers - tell the story about ascending to the pinnacle of their career has been the Classic I have always dreamed of for myself.
If you’ve read this and just now realized you were supposed to be a mechanic, then get to wrenching.
If you’re reading this and realizing that you’re the Humvee that has been built by so many others to do nothing more than just run down the road bringing others safely to their own appointments with destiny, then by all means, keep pointing the wheel in that direction and be that kind of person.
But, if you’ve read this, and thought I was speaking of you; you’re probably right.
Thank you; we, I… Love you.
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