No, It’s not a strange disease, but if you want to load a stringer with sac-a-lait, you should definitely become familiar with the word.
In the horrible days following the horrible passage of the horrible storm named Katrina, I had, appropriately, a horrible feeling in my gut about the future of Louisiana, the viability of our coast and, most importantly, the decency of man.It’s not hard to understand why. After watching hour after hour of television coverage of looting, shooting, stealing and killing for days on end, I began to feel like Lot in the Biblical hell of Sodom and Gomorrah. Surely, I reasoned, all of mankind was heading for Hades in the proverbial handbasket.
Then, I finally regained internet access, and the first site I checked, of course, was louisianasportsman.com. What I discovered there brought tears to my eyes.
Though dispersed around the country, Louisiana anglers and hunters used louisianasportsman.com as a hub to check on friends and fellow anglers. Posts dripping with concern were followed in the stream by others oozing with elation when they were answered by friends.
It was indeed touching to view the raw emotions so many rough-and-tumble outdoorsmen expressed in response to the hardships of others.
I posted then how wonderful a place America would be if it were made up only of anglers and hunters. Maybe, I mused, we could ship all the non-outdoorsmen to Canada or somewhere.
Many commented that they whole-heartedly agreed.
In the coming weeks, a group of Venice captains will contribute more evidence to prove my point.
You can read the details in Susan Gros’ newsbreaker in this issue, but here’s the nitty gritty: Some offshore-captain friends of Capt. Darryl Couvillion learned that his son, Kyle, deaf since birth, needed a cochlear implant to be able to attend school with hearing children and have a basically normal life. Unfortunately, the surgery was expensive, and the insurance company wouldn’t cover it.
Think of that: A little boy who had never heard his mother sing him a lullaby or listened as his father taught him proper technique to throw a ball or crank a reel would be able to hear, but his parents couldn’t afford the high cost of the surgery.
The looters and shooters might have shrugged, maybe even laughed at Kyle’s tough luck, but Couvillion’s friends acted. They talked to other captains, and soon a plan was cobbled together that would raise more than enough money for Kyle’s surgery.
Twenty captains would willingly — even eagerly — donate a day’s fishing, with the proceeds going to pay Kyle’s medical expenses.
These men, in my view, are heroes. They are not only giving of their time; they are giving their fuel, wear-and-tear on their boats and their expertise, and they will gain nothing in exchange for their generosity.
But I bet each will beam the first time he hears Kyle speak or, better yet, grunt while losing a battle with a big tuna.