15. Choice of Joy

Mile: 1,694

Rolling into the Grey Reef Access Area on the North Platte River laughter flooded through my open window. Looking across the passenger seat and moving my head to see around my cardboard window I witness the spring from which this river of laughter is coming. Three men are sitting in a half circle around a campfire laughing hysterically. I’m impressed that one is still in his camp chair with the amount of rocking back and forth that his laughter is producing. 

Laughter draws us in. Think about it, when someone around you laughs a true belly laugh, from the gut, you turn to look. You look intently trying to understand the source of the laughter so that we too can join in. Our joy is ready to be expressed, we’re just looking for the reason to let it out. I was searching for the reason of their laughter but realizing that it’s within a conversation that I was not privy to, I do not laugh. But I do let a big smile come forth and right then I make the decision. I will be a part of their belly laughing campfire semicircle before the night is over. 

 Before I slide over a a couple of camping spaces I hollar our the window, “Hey! This is a camping area, no laughing allowed!” Turning my way all three of them look to see who is scolding them their eyes land on Pearl, her cardboard and duck tape window, my full beard, and big goofy grin. Their abrupt silence is broken by Gene, the oldest of the bunch pushing his mid 70’s, “who died and put a fun-hating young whipper-snapper like you in charge?” The other two let out another laugh as if they had held it in long enough to be silent for the last two comments and couldn’t keep the steady stream of laughter back anymore. These guys had chosen laughter for the evening and nothing was going to keep them from it. I loved it. I could already picture my chair right there beside them by that fire laughing late into the evening. The professy was set, now it just needed to come true. “Would y’all have room for a young whipper-snapper red neck from Arkansas in that circle would ya?” “Red neck?!” Jim, the youngest of the bunch, despite the white beard and looking the oldest, hollared back “I’ve always wanted to meet one of those, we’ll put up with you I reckon.” I smiled and laughed and was met by three other smiles. I was in. Pulling around I put Pearl in park and started to get my fishing stuff out. I was going to join in the laughter but first as the afternoon light was waining into evening I had to get a fly wet while I could still see 10’ in front of me. After a two minute walk from where I parked in my camping spot for the evening I waded out into the cold fast moving water of the Platte. It was moving fast. Very fast. After two attempts to cross to the slower moving water on the far side I yielded to the fact I wouldn’t make it. Three feet of river current will try to take you away and I wasn’t ready to be taken, not with it being close to dark and a little chilly outside. I tried throwing my biggest gnarliest top water hopper I had into the eddies behind the biggest river rocks protruding out of the water. Forty five minutes later the pitch black darkness engulfed me. The sound of the river was still rushing just as loud as it did when I walked up. It was time to call it. It was easier to hook my fly to an eyelet and reel up the slack because of knowing the party of old man laughter I was about to join in on.  

I hung my rod up against the cedar paneling inside Pearl and my flyfishing vest next to it. Taking my wet Chacos and shorts off, I traded them for dry shorts and my comfortable “dad” slip on shoes. Time to let loose and cut up. I pulled my chair up and with my cold beer in hand and joined the half circle of old codgers. Their words not mine. Laughter began with the first word and didn’t stop till the wee hours of the morning. My abs were hurting, face was tired, and joy was overflowing. That was the most I had laughed in a long long time. Gene stood up, “Well ladies, I guess it’s time for the best looking and the smartest of the brothers to go to sleep.” “Ha! I won’t be headed to bed for another ten or fifteen minutes...” piped up Tom the middle brother, “...besides, you won’t be going to bed for another hour with all the futzin around you do as you try to get to sleep.” I couldn’t stop laughing as they began arguing about which brother futzes around the most. I was just trying to discern what “futzin” actually meant this whole time. As the laughter died down I said goodnight and headed back to Pearl for the evening.

I camped at the Grey Reef Campground next to the brothers for another two days and soaked up some more rich moments of laughter. On the last night while laughing around a fire Gene brought up the purpose of this camping trip for the brothers. “Hey Mason, I don’t believe we told you the purpose of our camping trip yet and I think that you should know. Our oldest brother died earlier this year at the age of 78 and we decided to take this camping trip out here where we all use to run around together to spread his ashes and laugh about past memories.” I didn’t know exactly how to respond because it was such a shock from the amount of laughter that had come from that camp ground over the last few days. I then realized the beauty of it. They had chosen joy. They had chosen laughter. There used to be four brothers for over 70 years they had each other and now one of the pillars was gone. But they had chosen joy. Joy, it’s a choice not a situational result. I want to be like these brothers as I live my life. I choose joy. 

A cheers to Gene, Tom, Jim, and the brother I was not blessed enough to have to the chance to laugh with, it’s men like you who I want to invest my time with and learn from. So I raise my glass say, thank you for choosing joy.