Hi Matt, haven't finished reading everything, but will. I have been thinking about stepping back, because I don't like to read about Tr***p. And it seems like there's been a lot lately. But then I think, it's only $50 and every once in awhile there's no Tr***p. Like This one. I enjoyed the dog and the bird stories (love both - dogs especially - smiled at the photos) and the fish stories, although I don't fish. Thanks. I'll hang in for a while more.
Have enjoyed Matt Labash's scribbling and musings sine Weekly Standard days of yore. Keeps me laughing while informing that there is plenty of stuff to be concerned and aware of. He reminds me that, if ya don't think God has a sense of humor, ya ain't paying attention!
Happy happy you! There is a reason I had to step away and I miss you and my dear friends Deborah and Mike (you know who you are). I am 100% in your corner and will explain in more detail if you wish to know more. Please don’t mistake my quiet for any disaffection. Love you so much.
Hi, Doc! Long time, no read. Hope all's well and glad to see you're still around and keepin' an eye on things.
BTW... no one would blame ya' for disaffecting Matt a little bit. Probably deserves it just on principle if nothing else, and it might even help counter the effect of all those Slack Tide groupies he has to constantly fend off after 3 years of wild and unbridled success, no?
This is among my favorite lines that you've written here: "Because if you want to hear the music that can be played by our better angels, you have to first snuff your own demons, or at least tell them to hold down the racket."
I share your veneration of Kristofferson but don't forget that John Prine hit the cold hole way too soon.
Finally, I tolerate your inexplicable obsession with writing about fishing (wink) because you clearly are tuned into dogs, a species in so many ways superior to our own. Being reminded of your petting piece is sort of bittersweet at the moment as my old girl, an English-style Lab that is an eyelash short of 15, is on a short path to her last roundup. Amazing the richness that a fine dog can bring to one's life. Amazing the impact that the impending death of a fine dog can have.
So enough of that. Here's to the next three years of Slack Tide. And the next fifteen.
Thank you, brother. And yes, John Prine was the man. Felled by COVID. Though they'd still have you believe it was just the flu, despite the couple million people it killed. Helluva flu.
I feel for you on your Lab. Have been there many times. And my current beast is in seemingly good shape, but about 11. (A rescue, so we were never entirely certain.) He's a big guy (a Great Pyrenees), and the big guys don't typically make it as long. But he's lived longer than all my other dogs. Am not looking forward to heading there again. It is forever in the back of my mind. Sounds like the front of yours. Hang in there......
I have a family friend who was tangentially involved in Prine's care at Vanderbilt. For a while it looked as if he'd make it. Until he didn't. It's a bitch of a disease, especially for those with certain comorbidities. The saddest part is that if he'd contracted Covid a year or two later he probably would have survived. We've learned so much about treating the disease but in those early months everyone was flying blind.
Pyrenees are beautiful dogs and may Captain Karma smile beatifically upon you for rescuing. May he outlive your most optimistic hopes. It will be tough when I have to make the call on Jessie. She has been with me continuously since I got her at 8 weeks. But she has lived a fine life for a dog with long daily hikes, excellent veterinary care, lots of swimming and play. The last year has much diminished her and what was once three or four or five miles a day has become a hundred yards or two. But she's still eager for meal time. So as long as she can amble around without undue pain and rise to the clang of the dinner bell ...
I stepped out my back door with my dog this morning and I was braced by a 50° breeze, only wearing summer shorts and a light T. The only thing I hate about this weather is the shrinkage. But my dog was jazzed. He's 100% black and hates summer sun. And no, he is was not a DEI acquisition.
To get to our Chuck-it field we had to walk over hundreds of bright green, hard as rocks, walnuts, which irritate the hell out of my plantar fascitis. Time is taking more and more toll on my Olympian physique. But it is also giving me the eyes to see nature and my dog in their glories. (My dog and I have an unnatural relationship because we read each other's minds. I can't do that with any other critters, including humans.)
Matt, you're a Bab-dist in Mary-land. I find that fact worth a chuckle since historically, there have been some unkind words shouted from Bab-dist pulpits about Papists. I also find it ironic that you are so good at shining a bright light on all the beauty we can see and experience with ALL our senses and still hold onto special feelings for very human created ideas that cannot be perceived by any of our senses. After all, if not for visible nature, of which we're part, your audience would be bupkis.
I have eyes to see the joie de le nature. Your musings and poetic narratives about it just add to life's greatest muse. The power (Helene) and the quiet glory (a slow river) of nature are spectacular enough to grab all my attention and teach me patience, love, tenderness, reverence, grace, and that nothing lasts (so we better enjoy it while we can).
Time isn't really speeding up though you couldn't convince my subjective mind of that fact. My nephew, the physics professor, assured me that time has not perceptively changed for eons, and politely reminded me of the difference between subjective and objective perception. But rest assured that you will experience the feeling of time passing quicker as your life keeps flowing. (I have no effing idea why this experience occurs to us, but it appears to be one more example of the weird mental quirks that forces us to think about things that don't exist or don't really happen.)
Maybe it's best that the limelight doesn't shine brightly off your forehead. Most of us know that limelight can ruin good character and make cartoons out of otherwise good lives. For someone so skilled, you remain true to our shared humanity. That is objectively... miraculous.
You continue to force me to recognize the beauty of the life that we all should be able to see. But without your poetic observations and razor sharp humor our vision would be more clouded.
Congrats, Matt...from a semi-newbie. I particularly liked your article on the bugler - "The Last 24 Notes"... which I read, wiped tears away and then shared/sent it to my brother, a former Marine - as he once reminded me, he's always a Marine...there are no ex-Marine's.
Anyway, I lliked your description of Donvict in today's piece, "...it is an election year — possibly the most pivotal one of our lifetime — and I tend to get cranky when a pumpkin-colored, serially-indicted, twice-impeached real-estate hustler not only tries to overthrow my country when he clearly lost an election, but is standing for election again, with even odds of winning."
Reminds me of what Malcolm Nance said, "What kind of country elects a lying criminal and an insurrectionist as its president?"
It's crazy how little mainstream coverage he's gotten. Most famous fly fishing writer in the world, and he didn't get an obituary in the NYT or the Washington Post.
Sat down and played along with "Holy Creation". It's a classic three-chord (A-D-E) country progression that gives proof to the hoary old observation that country music is three chords and the truth. I hadn't heard this tune before so I owe you one. Try "Midnight Communion" by Delbert McClinton.
Good to hear it distilled by a real musician, even if it's Greek to me. I just know what sounds good. Great Delbert tune. "They take the wine 'til closing time/ a fellowship of fools." Thanks, Bruce.
Congrats on three years. Another great column. I, too, have been deeply saddened by Kris’s departure, more even than he, I suspect, given his deep faith. I think he’s up there now, winking at the angels and picking with John Prine and Johnny Cash.
Year 3 for me, and I'm back to yearly subscription due to a bit of a reversal in fortune. Will step up to founder again in the future though. Sorry about that.
I think your most memorable piece remains the bluebird one: the one where you exacted your revenge. I had that in mind when I created a vicious snake baffle for my bluebird house this year. Can't have a tragedy like that in my backyard, not when I've been forewarned.
Get 'em, Sheri. Have no mercy on the snakes. And thanks for sticking. I appreciate it. Sincerely hope your reversal reverses -- for your sake, not mine.
Happy 3rd birthday, Matt. Happy to pay the immodest $250-a-year tariff as a founding subscriber. Losing Kristofferson so soon after Jimmy Buffett and Robbie Robertson brings an additional measure of autumnal melancholy. Ditto that poet laureate of fly fisherfolk, John Gierach. I expect Dylan and McGuane to be next, if some of us don’t beat them to it. Keep the paeans to fly fishing, dogs and bluebirds coming. As well as the highly deserved screeds against the Orange Caesar.
You're the man, George. Thanks for the immodest tariff. And for reminding me of everyone else we've lost in the last year-and-a-half. Now I have to go drink. Meanwhile, I can think of a few sonsofbitches I'd like to see go if they're taking requests. But those guys always last forever.
Kris's music and I go way back, well before his movie star days. I admit I've not kept track of him in later years so thanks so much for sharing this beautiful piece.
It reminded me of one of John Prine's final recordings, Come On Home (https://bit.ly/3U0UVt7). Maybe this isn't true for everyone as they approach their closing act, but I find there's an intensity to my feelings the closer I come to my own. I hear that in these songs. It's a mixture of love, appreciation and nostalgia.
Happy Third, weird looking overgrown sparrow. You add much to our delicate universe. Keep flying.
Hi Matt, haven't finished reading everything, but will. I have been thinking about stepping back, because I don't like to read about Tr***p. And it seems like there's been a lot lately. But then I think, it's only $50 and every once in awhile there's no Tr***p. Like This one. I enjoyed the dog and the bird stories (love both - dogs especially - smiled at the photos) and the fish stories, although I don't fish. Thanks. I'll hang in for a while more.
Thanks Matt for all this. Trout Bum has stayed with me all my life. And now kristoffersons song is with me too. Always wonderful.
Have enjoyed Matt Labash's scribbling and musings sine Weekly Standard days of yore. Keeps me laughing while informing that there is plenty of stuff to be concerned and aware of. He reminds me that, if ya don't think God has a sense of humor, ya ain't paying attention!
Happy happy you! There is a reason I had to step away and I miss you and my dear friends Deborah and Mike (you know who you are). I am 100% in your corner and will explain in more detail if you wish to know more. Please don’t mistake my quiet for any disaffection. Love you so much.
Hi, Doc! Long time, no read. Hope all's well and glad to see you're still around and keepin' an eye on things.
BTW... no one would blame ya' for disaffecting Matt a little bit. Probably deserves it just on principle if nothing else, and it might even help counter the effect of all those Slack Tide groupies he has to constantly fend off after 3 years of wild and unbridled success, no?
Yes, I sure know who we are
and who you are,
our dear friend Susan!
We miss you, too.
For joy
that we are reunited at last
as we hug Matt close
and thank him
for bringing us together
Deb
OMG! As I live and breath, Susan's back! Good to see you, dear.
Congratulations, Matt. I remain so glad I found your writing. You make a difference.
So nice, Claire. Appreciate that.
Not bad for a three year old. Congrats!
This is among my favorite lines that you've written here: "Because if you want to hear the music that can be played by our better angels, you have to first snuff your own demons, or at least tell them to hold down the racket."
I share your veneration of Kristofferson but don't forget that John Prine hit the cold hole way too soon.
Finally, I tolerate your inexplicable obsession with writing about fishing (wink) because you clearly are tuned into dogs, a species in so many ways superior to our own. Being reminded of your petting piece is sort of bittersweet at the moment as my old girl, an English-style Lab that is an eyelash short of 15, is on a short path to her last roundup. Amazing the richness that a fine dog can bring to one's life. Amazing the impact that the impending death of a fine dog can have.
So enough of that. Here's to the next three years of Slack Tide. And the next fifteen.
Thank you, brother. And yes, John Prine was the man. Felled by COVID. Though they'd still have you believe it was just the flu, despite the couple million people it killed. Helluva flu.
I feel for you on your Lab. Have been there many times. And my current beast is in seemingly good shape, but about 11. (A rescue, so we were never entirely certain.) He's a big guy (a Great Pyrenees), and the big guys don't typically make it as long. But he's lived longer than all my other dogs. Am not looking forward to heading there again. It is forever in the back of my mind. Sounds like the front of yours. Hang in there......
I have a family friend who was tangentially involved in Prine's care at Vanderbilt. For a while it looked as if he'd make it. Until he didn't. It's a bitch of a disease, especially for those with certain comorbidities. The saddest part is that if he'd contracted Covid a year or two later he probably would have survived. We've learned so much about treating the disease but in those early months everyone was flying blind.
Pyrenees are beautiful dogs and may Captain Karma smile beatifically upon you for rescuing. May he outlive your most optimistic hopes. It will be tough when I have to make the call on Jessie. She has been with me continuously since I got her at 8 weeks. But she has lived a fine life for a dog with long daily hikes, excellent veterinary care, lots of swimming and play. The last year has much diminished her and what was once three or four or five miles a day has become a hundred yards or two. But she's still eager for meal time. So as long as she can amble around without undue pain and rise to the clang of the dinner bell ...
I stepped out my back door with my dog this morning and I was braced by a 50° breeze, only wearing summer shorts and a light T. The only thing I hate about this weather is the shrinkage. But my dog was jazzed. He's 100% black and hates summer sun. And no, he is was not a DEI acquisition.
To get to our Chuck-it field we had to walk over hundreds of bright green, hard as rocks, walnuts, which irritate the hell out of my plantar fascitis. Time is taking more and more toll on my Olympian physique. But it is also giving me the eyes to see nature and my dog in their glories. (My dog and I have an unnatural relationship because we read each other's minds. I can't do that with any other critters, including humans.)
Matt, you're a Bab-dist in Mary-land. I find that fact worth a chuckle since historically, there have been some unkind words shouted from Bab-dist pulpits about Papists. I also find it ironic that you are so good at shining a bright light on all the beauty we can see and experience with ALL our senses and still hold onto special feelings for very human created ideas that cannot be perceived by any of our senses. After all, if not for visible nature, of which we're part, your audience would be bupkis.
I have eyes to see the joie de le nature. Your musings and poetic narratives about it just add to life's greatest muse. The power (Helene) and the quiet glory (a slow river) of nature are spectacular enough to grab all my attention and teach me patience, love, tenderness, reverence, grace, and that nothing lasts (so we better enjoy it while we can).
Time isn't really speeding up though you couldn't convince my subjective mind of that fact. My nephew, the physics professor, assured me that time has not perceptively changed for eons, and politely reminded me of the difference between subjective and objective perception. But rest assured that you will experience the feeling of time passing quicker as your life keeps flowing. (I have no effing idea why this experience occurs to us, but it appears to be one more example of the weird mental quirks that forces us to think about things that don't exist or don't really happen.)
Maybe it's best that the limelight doesn't shine brightly off your forehead. Most of us know that limelight can ruin good character and make cartoons out of otherwise good lives. For someone so skilled, you remain true to our shared humanity. That is objectively... miraculous.
You continue to force me to recognize the beauty of the life that we all should be able to see. But without your poetic observations and razor sharp humor our vision would be more clouded.
Wow! I'm putting this in my scrapbook. Thanks, B. Sorry, Flagrante.
You're still my favorite Substack writer, Matt. Happy Anniversary!
Thank you kindly, Jody.
Congrats, Matt...from a semi-newbie. I particularly liked your article on the bugler - "The Last 24 Notes"... which I read, wiped tears away and then shared/sent it to my brother, a former Marine - as he once reminded me, he's always a Marine...there are no ex-Marine's.
Anyway, I lliked your description of Donvict in today's piece, "...it is an election year — possibly the most pivotal one of our lifetime — and I tend to get cranky when a pumpkin-colored, serially-indicted, twice-impeached real-estate hustler not only tries to overthrow my country when he clearly lost an election, but is standing for election again, with even odds of winning."
Reminds me of what Malcolm Nance said, "What kind of country elects a lying criminal and an insurrectionist as its president?"
A great question. And glad your Marine brother liked it. Thanks, Stephen.
Yes. he did! Thanks again...Steve
I had not heard that John Gierach died. The next pea-brain I land and release will be in his honor.
It's crazy how little mainstream coverage he's gotten. Most famous fly fishing writer in the world, and he didn't get an obituary in the NYT or the Washington Post.
Sat down and played along with "Holy Creation". It's a classic three-chord (A-D-E) country progression that gives proof to the hoary old observation that country music is three chords and the truth. I hadn't heard this tune before so I owe you one. Try "Midnight Communion" by Delbert McClinton.
Good to hear it distilled by a real musician, even if it's Greek to me. I just know what sounds good. Great Delbert tune. "They take the wine 'til closing time/ a fellowship of fools." Thanks, Bruce.
Congrats on three years. Another great column. I, too, have been deeply saddened by Kris’s departure, more even than he, I suspect, given his deep faith. I think he’s up there now, winking at the angels and picking with John Prine and Johnny Cash.
Thanks, Mark. And I would pay good money to see that session. Something to look forward to, I suppose.
Year 3 for me, and I'm back to yearly subscription due to a bit of a reversal in fortune. Will step up to founder again in the future though. Sorry about that.
I think your most memorable piece remains the bluebird one: the one where you exacted your revenge. I had that in mind when I created a vicious snake baffle for my bluebird house this year. Can't have a tragedy like that in my backyard, not when I've been forewarned.
Get 'em, Sheri. Have no mercy on the snakes. And thanks for sticking. I appreciate it. Sincerely hope your reversal reverses -- for your sake, not mine.
Nature red, tooth and claw.
-Tennyson
Happy 3rd birthday, Matt. Happy to pay the immodest $250-a-year tariff as a founding subscriber. Losing Kristofferson so soon after Jimmy Buffett and Robbie Robertson brings an additional measure of autumnal melancholy. Ditto that poet laureate of fly fisherfolk, John Gierach. I expect Dylan and McGuane to be next, if some of us don’t beat them to it. Keep the paeans to fly fishing, dogs and bluebirds coming. As well as the highly deserved screeds against the Orange Caesar.
You're the man, George. Thanks for the immodest tariff. And for reminding me of everyone else we've lost in the last year-and-a-half. Now I have to go drink. Meanwhile, I can think of a few sonsofbitches I'd like to see go if they're taking requests. But those guys always last forever.
Nothing lasts. Without that fact, nothing would be precious.
Kris's music and I go way back, well before his movie star days. I admit I've not kept track of him in later years so thanks so much for sharing this beautiful piece.
It reminded me of one of John Prine's final recordings, Come On Home (https://bit.ly/3U0UVt7). Maybe this isn't true for everyone as they approach their closing act, but I find there's an intensity to my feelings the closer I come to my own. I hear that in these songs. It's a mixture of love, appreciation and nostalgia.
Congrats on your 3-year Substack anniversary!
Great Prine tune, Barbara. And a crusher of a video. Thanks for that.