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Patricia C. Behnke
Another View

Hope Breathes Life into a Fish Called Whale Bob

Hope lives in a freshwater pond in north Florida.Ethereal and often times elusive, this hope exists in the tales of a largemouth bass named Whale Bob.

Whale Bob’s birth occurred a quarter century ago when two fishermen needed a story to cover for the one that got away. And as with all other fisher tales, this one grew to gargantuan proportions and remains as a

I have heard the tales over and over again and from others besides my ex-husband and his friend who have used Whale Bob to cover for a multitude of their sins while bass fishing.

Whale Bob turns boats 180 degrees. Whale Bob throws grown men out of their canoes and into the icy winter water of this local pond. Whale Bob becomes angry when fooled by a plastic worm and snaps poles in two.

Whale Bob dances by the light of a silvery moon. Whale Bob turns water into wine, except on Sundays before noon— this is north Florida after all.

But there is one thing Whale Bob has failed to do over the years. He has never been reeled in to grace a dining room table dressed in lemon and dill. No, that is one thing that has never happened to this giant leviathan.

Did I mention that Whale Bob weighs more than 20 pounds and his length grows with each telling of the tale? And with each new fisherman introduced to the superfish powers of this bass, comes the hope of becoming the superman of the fishing world.

It does not matter that Whale Bob may only exist in the minds of those who believe; I myself have never seen him, but I believe he exists.

To stop believing in such a wondrous thing would mean to stop believing with the childhood hope that keeps me breathing. I have a blue and gold ornament hanging over my computer to remind me. One word is written on its surface: “Hope.”

My sister-in-law gave it to me several years ago after I told her I had days when I had no hope; days where it was difficult to face the next day; days which left me empty.
To live without hope is to live without life — to not live at all. A life without hope lacks a heartbeat as each breath deflates the spirit rather than filling up the spaces. To live without hope is to live without the birthday-party anticipation that in the next minute a new adventure may present itself; a new sight may come into view; or a new person might bring laughter.

I cannot pinpoint the moment when hope left all those years ago, just as I cannot pinpoint its reentry into my life, but once I discovered the difference between the two states of being, never did I want to return to that hopeless state that left me dead inside and those around me fearful for my fate. I am grateful for its return into my life because now I have a heartbeat again pumping oxygen back into my soul.

The simple pleasures of day-to-day living keep me alive with hope as I view each day as a new present to open. Those presents include the simplest of life’s pleasures such as talking with a friend, watching the innocence on the face of a child, observing lovers embrace. And with these simple enjoyments, hope exists for even more life-affirming experiences in the very next moment.

Do I fall off the hope wagon train? All the time, but the ornament remains proclaiming the simple word. The fishermen also give up hope on occasion but then out of the blue, Whale Bob will swim slowly and tauntingly toward the boat, swishing his tail fin seductively daring them to believe. Hope returns from its momentary lunch break.

Whale Bob represents more than just an opportunity to tell a fish tale. He is the embodiment of all that we want and all that we can be and all that we are. If Whale Bob can leap over a canoe or pirouette in the wake of a johnboat, then there is hope that we can achieve anything.

If Whale Bob ever manages to get himself hooked, I promise never to tell. I would never take away the hope that one day someone might reel him in or catch a glimpse of his mermaid-like grace underwater.

Whale Bob will always live in a freshwater pond just a heartbeat away in north Florida.

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