Why, "Wish You Were Fishing?"

This is a brand new blog, and I'm a brand new blogger, so let's get the question about the name out of the way right up front. No, this isn't a blog about fishing - at least that's not the primary subject matter. I just happen to enjoy fishing, among other things (like cooking, and golfing, to name a couple). There are times when I'm doing something else - like working, for instance - that I wish I was fishing; or golfing; or sucking down a cold one while checking out the thong on the hottie strolling past on the beach. You catch my drift?

I've reached an age - as have gazillions of you fellow bloggers and surfers out there - when I'm beginning to take stock of my life, what I've learned and what I have or haven't accomplished. I think about stuff! Most days, I'm cool with where I am. Things could be better (of course "better" is a relative term based on one's perspective and objectives in life), but it could be a helluva lot worse too!

My point is, I believe there are a lot of people out there like me who are just trying to figure things out from one day to the next; who want nothing more than to do the right thing - and have fun doing it. Sometimes, though, figuring out what the right thing is, is the toughest part of all.

Anyway, I'm devoting this blog NOT to "average guy on the street" topics (I don't consider myself average, so I won't consider you average), but to topics that come to mind - often randomly - that I believe many of you think about too, but never talk about, even with your closest friends and family members. This is for us not-so-average people who may not have hit the big time (yet), and occasionally - if not often - find ourselves wishing we were fishing.

Like the other day . . .

. . . after hearing what had to be the 500th (if not 1,000th) story of the day (and it was only noon!) about healthcare reform and how town hall meetings all over the country were exploding with rancor - and in some cases, violence - I had to ask, "What the hell is wrong with people?" I love a good argument, or debate even (I'm half-Irish, for God's sake), but I've determined that there are no good arguments and debates any more. If you take a position on A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G these days, you're setting yourself up to be attacked - at best verbally, and at worst physically! And chances are, you won't even know the person, or persons, doing the attacking! Where's my girl, Aretha, when you need her! It's about R-E-S-P-E-C-T people!

What happened to respect? It's still in the dictionary so I know the word still exists. Like the dude in the oversized, obnoxious, gas guzzling Hummer yesterday who, while yapping on his iPhone (which I could barely make out through his almost-illegally-tinted windows) ran through a stop sign in my development and nearly took me out. When I honked my horn at him (you know, just to remind him he wasn't the only one on this public throughfare) the a-hole flipped ME off. Can you belive that? Just a teensy-weensy self-absorbed, I'd say. We all know this stuff happens every day. It's death by a thousand cuts, isn't it. I grew up in the Midwest and was taught to live by the golden rule, and that's how I've tried to raise my kids. It's times like the "Hummer-Boy Encounter" though, when my faith in humanity takes another hit. And that's when the thought came to me - "Man, I Wish I Was Fishing."