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S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 3 2 literature were important. I thought that science was important, as were the latest proclamations of the theologians. Like all kids who grew up in the 50s and 60s, I thought I could do great things. Now, more than a half-century and a few million miles later, I see that not much has changed for our efforts. The cops are still chasing the robbers, who are still robbing, and all the music and art and science of "my time" are ridiculed as outdated, and politicians still spew inanities while they line their own pockets with money they stole— "fair and square"—from you and me. All over the world, people are still killing and maiming under the cover of whatever name they call God. I guess Gene was right all along. I still think that music and art and politics are worth doing and knowing about. They have an intrinsic value all their own. It's just that man is a very insignificant creature and in the grand scheme of things, none of humankind's accomplishments mean very much. You just have to keep things in perspective. If you contemplate the enormity of the universe, and its complexity, if you contemplate time and distance beyond reckoning, you have to come to the conclusion that all of our combined accomplishments don't amount to much more than the blink of an eye or a flash of lightning in the summer sky. A ll of this stuff has been on my mind lately because I have a two-year-old grandson. His name is William, but his parents call him Will. Most of the time, I call him Willie Boy, which of course, his momma hates. Like most young adults these days, his daddy works long hours to provide for his family, and doesn't have much time for perceived nonessential things like hunting and fishing. And so, I've been assigned the job of making up for that lapse in Will's education. Willie Boy spends a lot of time with his grandfather, and operates under the unshakable belief that the sun rise and sets on the old reprobate who spends time with him. Very soon now it'll be time to teach Will how to catch a fish. A pole and a worm will come first, of course. When he's got that down pretty well, I'll introduce him to the exquisite intricacies of fly fishing. A big part of that will be teaching him how to observe, how to really see his surroundings, and the inherent merit of a thing done well. It goes without saying that it will necessarily involve a bit of camping and the arcane arts of fire-building and tent-pitching. To say nothing of stream-watching and stone-skipping. We'll have to take in a bit of sunset contemplating and sunrise ogling if I can roust my old bones out of the sack in time. In due time he will be thoroughly schooled in shotguns, birds, and dogs. Coco the chocolate Lab is pitching in to help. In observance of Gene Hill's epiphany, I think I'll teach him perspective—that accomplishment is good. And so is the pursuit of excellence. As long as you don't fool yourself into thinking that man's doodlings are "important." I'll try to instill in him that the outdoors is the best place for a young'un to learn human kindness and decency, to respect all creatures, including himself and his fellow man, and that if you always do what you think is right, it'll make life a lot easier. He'll need to learn that a day of keeping company with a fishing rod or a shotgun is as valuable as any and more valuable than most. All the rest is window dressing, anyway. Actually, I think I'll grab a cane pole and a couple of bobbers on the way to Willie Boy's house. We've got important things to do.