It was a late afternoon ritual, before the Angelus. Leodegario and his sidekick, Samuel (or was it the other way around?) would quietly huddle at the flagpole, careful not to disturb the water that reflected their faces against a gradually darkening sky.
They would stretch their arms over the water, as if casting a spell over muffled incantations. A tiny white thread around 1 foot in length stretched from a hand to the water surface. Not a ripple as the tiny tilapia moved gently and effortlessly around a hook fashioned out of a staple wire, with a bait of rice.
Then in a split second, Leodegario would suddenly tug at the thread like a seasoned angler, together with a sudden outburst that would jolt Samuel from his own trance.
Bursts of elation and frustration were the same. From afar, you wouldn’t notice the difference. Samuel would laugh and make a comment. Then they would go back to work.
On the other side of the flagpole pond, somebody (I can’t recall now the person in particular) would melt candle wax on the turtle’s hard shell and attach a lighted candle. An eerie glow would be moving here and there around the flagpole as candlelight cast weird undulating shadows against the pond walls.
They must be fishing in the hereafter, as Samuel joined his Creator last November 30, 2004 and Leodegario, several years earlier. (Recall your memories of them with prayers on your lips after reading this article.)
May their souls find peace … (nox arcamo)
They would stretch their arms over the water, as if casting a spell over muffled incantations. A tiny white thread around 1 foot in length stretched from a hand to the water surface. Not a ripple as the tiny tilapia moved gently and effortlessly around a hook fashioned out of a staple wire, with a bait of rice.
Then in a split second, Leodegario would suddenly tug at the thread like a seasoned angler, together with a sudden outburst that would jolt Samuel from his own trance.
Bursts of elation and frustration were the same. From afar, you wouldn’t notice the difference. Samuel would laugh and make a comment. Then they would go back to work.
On the other side of the flagpole pond, somebody (I can’t recall now the person in particular) would melt candle wax on the turtle’s hard shell and attach a lighted candle. An eerie glow would be moving here and there around the flagpole as candlelight cast weird undulating shadows against the pond walls.
They must be fishing in the hereafter, as Samuel joined his Creator last November 30, 2004 and Leodegario, several years earlier. (Recall your memories of them with prayers on your lips after reading this article.)
May their souls find peace … (nox arcamo)
