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December 11, 2016
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‘I shot an arrow into the air….’

Shortly after that column ran in The River Reporter, the phone rang. The caller was a very polite gentleman who said he had obtained my phone number from the paper. He was a regular reader who enjoyed reading my columns. He was particularly pleased with the February column that mentioned the 1970 Theodore Gordon Flyfishers outing at Henryville where Ernie Schwiebert had given a fly tying demonstration. On behalf of the current Henryville Flyfishers, he wished to extend an invitation to Barb and me to spend an afternoon fishing the Paradise Branch of the Brodhead. For a brief moment I wondered if one of my sly fishing pals was pulling my leg. However, Paul Canevari’s sincerity washed away that thought as quickly as the mighty Delaware River moves gravel when in flood. I hope Barbara and I do not disappoint Canevari. What little fly fishing skills we ever learned have been severely eroded by time. Also, Barbara Ann, that “little osprey,” does not dive into the stream as boldly as she once did.

Ah well, you surely know how that poem about the arrow goes—It landed, I know not where.

The Arrow and the Song

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.