Column: Earning the local title

My buddy texted at 4 a.m. saying the hunt was a no-go. He’d been up all night and was worried he was getting run down. One of the worst things you can do as a teacher is fall behind on your health early in the school year, even when there isn’t a Pandemic.

Anyway, I happened to roll over at 4:10 and figured I’d check the weather. The forecast called for gusts to 60 miles per hour and four foot waves, even if the relative shelter of the narrows. The hunt was cancelled. So I turned off my alarm, fell back asleep and woke up at five anyway.

I listened to the rain pound the roof and flood the gutters. I pictured ducks and geese hunkered down out of the storm and figured I’d head out in the afternoon when the weather was supposed to break. Or at least not be hazardous.

Along with building a strong immune system against common germs comes the need to build misery tolerance because if October was a fish, it would be a lingcod. Ugly. Nasty. Angry. But you still like it. It’s the month that seems to say, “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now the payment is due.”

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