Letter: “You can thank my parents for that”

He was standing in front of the cash register at our place of business from which I’m often gone that being because we just have a lot going on and, despite the beautiful weather, I’ve got things to do elsewhere.

“This is for yesterday since you weren’t here, and today.”

Fishermen, which this fellow is, and which our business caters to, are notorious, though all-in-fun, liars.

In fact, hanging just below our cash register is the “Fisherman’s Crying Towel” replete with all manner of oft-told reasons why ‘the big one’ got away.

This guy, however, was not going to let me get away without paying his dock fee – today’s and the day’s before – not because I remembered, after all I wasn’t even here.

But because he remembered.

I’ve written previously about – since they’re so remarkable – such fishermen.

Like Garry Gerking, in his eighties who says he has fished for 78 of those 80 years, who more than once has handed me an envelope with exactly – exactly – $12.08.

That’s because every time he fishes here, being a senior, he would owe $3.02. And four days of him fishing here and me not being here to take his money equals $12.08.

In an envelope because he, and the aforementioned fellow, never forget.

Sure, I could put a slot in the door, but it’s become a rather interesting experiment.

The French have a proverb: “Bonne renommee vaut mieux que ceinture doree.” Loosely translated the meaning is, “A good name is better than gold.”

Pretty important then, a name, a good name.

Some say that synonymous with a good name is the substance of wisdom and honesty.

With riches one can get stuff. But stuffing – that which makes a man with a good name – is what matters more.

When I thanked him for remembering I realized then how he had come by that good name, and reputation.

He said, “You can thank my parents for that.”