Three Seats

[panader0]

12. Especially good essay today.

When I went to Oregon to work in the woods with my friend, we were able to rent a large old
house on the Warm Springs Reservation. It was right on the huge Deschutes River. Our landlord,
an old Warm Springs Indian, took an immediate shine to me, although he found my friend "dirty".
We spent days with me driving his pickup truck through the forests on the Rez, looking for the
perfect tree to cut for the houses' firewood. What he really wanted was to talk. He was a mentor
and a wise old man, Hiram Smith. His age had forced him to move to his daughter's house in nearby
Madras, off the Reservation. One day at that house he led me to his rooms in the basement where
he had an assortment of a dozen or so fine fishing poles. Pick one he said. I sure caught a lot of trout
with it, but I never understood the depth of what he actually gave me until several years later.