At sixty-seven years old I have given up on any feeble attempts at making, much less following through with, any new year’s resolutions. At my age, realistically, other than not seeing my eloquently written obituary in the newspaper, I no longer give a rip! This is not to say I don’t make resolutions that I truly attempt to keep, but they are not dictated to a given time of the year.
For instance, in the waning months of winter I make the resolution to have all my boat’s equipment and fishing gear prepared for the soon-coming spring. But it is then that I realize that throwing away the instructional manuals for my electronics equipment may not have been a great decision.
Because my tackle box requires my full body weight to close, I still make the resolution not to purchase a larger model that leaves empty compartments which, in turn, leaves me with the overwhelming compulsion to fill the empty locations with more fishing tackle. With the wife’s threat of justifiable homicide, I think I kept that resolution once…No, actually twice, if buying a tackle box at a garage sale doesn’t count. Because I am now on the ragged edge of giving myself a hernia putting it in my boat, I believe that resolution may be kept in the future.
Once I decide to take my boat out for the first time, I accept that it may have been a month or more premature. But I always make the resolution that a severe case of hypothermia and no fish will not deter me from repeating the same insane and idiotic decision the next year. For some reason that never happens.
I always make the resolution that I will learn a new technique for catching bass. But that, in turn, comes in conflict with another resolution; promising my wife I will not turn on the bedroom television at dark o’clock in the morning to watch instructional bass fishing programs on the Outdoor channel.
Because I pour my own plastic baits, I always make the resolution that this will be the year I will conjure up the plastic color combination that will change forever the bass fishing world, pouring enough to stock a small sporting goods store. But each year I eventually realize I squandered away X amount of dollars attempting to manufacture what, realistically, couldn’t catch a cold.
I always make the resolution that I will make certain my fishing schedule does not coincide with my wife’s plans for the day. But because she selfishly demands no less than three days a week for yard work and other tedious chores, that resolution has never come remotely close to being fulfilled.
I have made the resolution that I will take my grandchildren fishing with me. But that was nullified by my wife’s ridiculous claim that if the fish are biting, and one grandchild falls overboard, I would just throw out a life ring and wish them the best of luck. Geeez! A guy has one lapse in judgment and he’s branded for life!
Months in advance I make the resolution why the wife and I should not to visit relatives on the other side of the United States in the spring, which is during the best bass fishing. But I then resolve myself to the fact that her plans totally obliterates my resolution. And that occurs every year.
And, lastly, I made the resolution to no longer be the source of my wife’s premature grey hair and tired facial lines. But like I told her on her 60th birthday, some hair color and a little makeup, and she’d look almost….well, sixty. And if she would just stick to the resolution to concentrate on the positive reasons why she married me, her life would be much easier. The last time I checked she was still attempting to remember the first reason….