With a tough work week behind me, I needed to get away to a peaceful location where I could relax and enjoy a warm day. I gathered my fishing gear and headed to a remote pond that few people knew about. It had been awhile since fishing that spot, so I drove first to make sure I could locate it. When I arrived, there were two men there, one younger white guy and an elderly black man. Being the lush I am I approached the black man and asked him how the fishing was going.
"Not much today," he said in a friendly, but disappointed tone. "Should have come earlier in the morning."
"Well, I was about to give it a try, but figured I'd check first, then go get some bait," I said, checking out the physicality of the man who stood about 6'2" and had a large belly with generally large features, just my type. I was guessing he was around 65 -- 70 years old.
"No need, use what I have. It's not going quickly," he said, casting his line into the still water of the pond.
For the next hour or so me and Connor, as he had introduced himself to me, talked, mostly about him. He was retired army, widowed with two children and 5 grandchildren. He still worked part-time at a local shipyard but was on the verge of retiring from that as well. He went into a lot of detail about his work, nothing that I was particularly interested in but loved hearing him talk, and gazing at his ample, but sexy body. He seemed lonely and needed someone to talk to.
After a while we both gave up. "Well James, think I'll call it a day," he said, getting his tackle equipment together. "You're welcome to come back to my place for a beer, I live just down the trail." That explained the lack of a car when the other fisherman left. One mystery solved. The other, was there a motive behind him inviting me to his place, was on my mind.
Not far from the pond sat a large, double-wide trailer, neatly surrounded by flower beds and herb gardens. "You like gardening?" I asked as he unlocked the door.
"Not really," he chuckled. This trailer is actually a friend of mine's who recently passed way. I'm taking care of it for him until his sister comes and cleans everything out." We walked in and it felt like I had just entered the 1950s with the wooden walls, bland striped wallpaper, still life photos on the walls and other décor typical of that era.
"Nice place," I commented, admiring the clean and orderly living room, dining room and kitchen.
"It'll do. I like it here except it gets a little lonely being surrounded by woods, and deer. I guess they keep me company." He went into the refrigerator and brought out a couple of beers. "Cheers James," he said, holding up his bottle.
We sat down in the living room and talked about everything from sports, to politics to local interest. I also discovered that he was 72 years old.
"Wow, I would never have guessed," I said, truly astonished. "You really look good." Normally someone that age wasn't as large and solid, and his wit was incredible.
"Well thank you James. The gray hair wasn't a give-away?"
"Well, sort of. But the rest of you says much younger."
