Under the tree when the rain stops.

Twenty-five years ago I was visiting Edinburgh. I left there and drove to the east until I could see the North Sea. I wanted to get closer and turned on a road leading to the Torness Nuclear Power Station. I got out of my car to see the waves crashing on the rocks. I saw a man sitting there fishing. I love fishing, so I walked over there to talk to him. We were both speaking English, he as a Scotsman and me as a Yank. It was the same language but we could hardly understand each other. I told him he was so lucky to be able to go fishing, to which he replied, “I’m retired. I don’t have anything else to do!” Here’s my remembrance of him a quarter of a century later.