On fishing, lighthouses and a change of direction

By Rhonda Westfall

I went fishing this past Wednesday afternoon – but not on a lake or stream.

My fishing expedition consisted of clearing decaying leaves from flower beds and removing rose cones to expose the budding, cut-back canes to some fresh spring air and warm sunshine.

The idea that gardening could be like fishing came into my mind courtesy of a fisherman who I had watched ‘in action’ on Sarasota Bay the previous week. For Wayne, fishing is a source of relaxation and revitalization for both body and soul – freeing the mind from mundane thoughts that accompany life’s routine responsibilities and allowing the spirit to soar freely.

At least I think that’s what was happening while the fly tied to the end of a gossamer line danced in the air before landing ever so lightly on the blue waters off Siesta Key – where Wayne subsequently recorded his first-ever, fly-fishing catch of a salt water fish. The fact that the Spotted Sea Trout was not a ‘keeper’ did not diminish in the least the joy of the experience – sort of like pruning a rose bush or hoeing weeds from a row of bean plants, at least that’s my perspective.

So, like Wayne, I ‘fished’ in the flowerbeds on Forest Hill Road, freeing my mind of cares and concerns – picturing in my mind that fishing scene from the previous week and recalling his words.

Actually, the trip to Florida provided lots of ‘mind-freeing’ opportunities. Much of the time was spent on Lido Beach where the lovely blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico wash onto white sand, carrying and depositing a wide variety of seashells – that are quickly snagged by ‘northern guests.’ We scored some fragile sand dollars – that were carefully wrapped in tissue paper for the trip home – and an assortment of pretty Olive shells, Whelks, Tulips, Conchs, Scallops, Cockles and Clams.

Blue skies and warm winds prevailed each day, creating a great environment for wind-surfers to show off their talents. Sunsets were particularly spectacular – gorgeous hues of mauve, gold, pinks and reds spread across the horizon like a prayer of thanks for the day just past.

Time was also allotted at the start of the trip south for a stop on Florida’s opposite shoreline where we were ‘true tourists’ in St. Augustine – our nation’s oldest city, founded by Pedro Menedez de Aviles in 1565 (at least that’s what the St. Augustine’s Trolley Tour brochure said).

While the lingo on the tourist literature may be suspect, the old city with its beautiful Spanish-style architecture and landmark buildings is genuine. We enjoyed a stroll down St. George Street, passing by the ‘oldest wooden schoolhouse’ and heading out the old city gates that provide a great view of Castillo de SanMarco – the old Spanish fort that guarded the city.

Nearby, we paused to admire the huge cross at the Mission of Nombre de Dios – the oldest mission established in the New World – and a monument close by that marks the spot of Ponce de Leon’s ‘Fountain of Youth.’

A side trip to the St. Augustine Lighthouse and Museum, located on Anastasia Island just across the Bridge of Lions from the old city of St. Augustine, provided a fantastic view of the city and of the Atlantic Ocean. We can proudly say that we walked up all 219 steps of the spiral stairway that leads to the circular viewing platform – just below the light that still operates every evening.

It’s comforting to think about that light and its steady, unfailing beam that offers an assurance of safety on a sea that is sometimes turbulent – just like life. We all need a light to guide us when the path seems unclear, and the storms of life rock our rickety boat.

The assurance of the lighthouse has been much needed during the past year. Not many months have passed without some sort of major incident since last April when my Dad came home from Sparrow Hospital. Our family still mourns his passing that occurred May 22, and we are confronted on a daily basis with the challenges our Mother faces – bits of her memory fading, taking her away from us, too.

The most recent need for the ‘lighthouse light’ came five weeks ago when my professional status changed dramatically. Readers will no longer find my byline in the local print publication – the powers that be determined my services were no longer required as of March 2.

So - this ‘Random Notes’ column is a debut of sorts, making its first appearance exclusively in The Independent, the on-line newspaper venture that Jean Martin and I have operated since 1998 – and intend to continue. Our Indy readers are familiar with the rambling thoughts that rattle around in my mind and appear as Random Notes – perhaps they may want to let their ‘News’ reading friends know that they can still find my byline here – just as it always has been.

As it also has from the start, The Indy will publish all the vital statistics our readers have come to expect – births, deaths, court records – along with coverage of local government, schools, business and community events. Readers will also continue to enjoy all the special features that only The Indy staff can provide: Barry Bauer’s Federal-Mogul series, our special photo packages like Jean’s ‘Church Window’ retrospective this week, and the wealth of historical stories that life-long Clinton County residents – as we all are – are intimately aware of.

While we won’t change the banner on our Indy front page from the clock at the ‘old’ Clinton County Courthouse to the St. Augustine Lighthouse, it does appear in my mind – a guiding beam that offered symbolic direction at one more time in my life when the seas of life were rough.

Perhaps it was pointing me toward the one Light that truly provides a permanent direction.

That’s an appropriate thought for Easter Weekend – a new life, a fresh start.