This is my 900th post on this blog. Have you read the other 899? Neither have I. Most of them are better than this one I think. Hmmm... let's see. What is this post going to be about? Hmmm...
Most of the time Bob the Angel can be found fishing from the rickety boat dock on Willow Lake, the old dock at the end of Miller Road. Have you met Bob the Angel? If not, you might picture something quite different. He doesn't look like you might imagine. His hair is curly brown and usually bushy. Most days he wears pocket T-shirts, though he has a couple of those thin, white Guayabera shirts that he likes to wear when it's warm. Jeans in the winter and tan cargo shorts all the rest of the time. Sandals. Always sandals, even when it snows. Also he has giant, brilliant white wings. When he stands they stay tucked in behind him. When he sits he flares them out and they just sort of wave above him. The sight is really something, sort of stirring, but he doesn't like to talk about them. It makes him uncomfortable for some reason.
Some mornings, when I'm out trolling my trotlines, I'll see him sitting there, white wings above his head catching the early sun and sandaled feet dangling over the water. Mostly I just wave and keep going, but once in a while I'll motor over and dock and we'll chat for a while. I like Bob. Even though he's an angel, he mostly talks like a regular guy. He's the only angel I've ever known, so I don't know how he might compare to your typical angel.
From what I hear tell, though I'm not sure how anyone would know, he's a guardian angel. Danny, that's my oldest boy, thinks Bob guards the lake. Wanda from the bait shop says that when Bob's charge, an old man who lived around here more than a hundred years ago, died, Bob just didn't go back. He's been here as long as anyone can remember, so that might be true. He doesn't like to talk about it. It seems to make him uncomfortable.
He'll talk as long as you care to about regular stuff, though. Fishing. Weather. Gossip. Even politics. Not angel stuff, though. Not religion. He just mutters something and gets quiet if you bring any of that up. Usually he'll just change the subject, or start into a joke. He has a strange sense of humor. His jokes are fun to listen to, but I don't usually get them. He'll hit the punch line and laugh and laugh, and I'll just smile and nod a little. Must be angel humor.
One time... have I told you this? Sometimes I tell the same story over and over to people. I lose track, you know? I'm not sure who's heard what. Well, anyway, one time, right after Linda died, he did say a little something. Linda was my wife, you know? "Time's different there," he said. "Everyone arrives at the same time." That's all he said and he wouldn't say any more about it when I asked him. I think about that a lot, though. It's good to know, you know?
Well, I better get going. These lines aren't going to bait themselves.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
