Sar SRT TT TUMMY'S CREMAINS "Tummy" is an unusual name for a man, the source of it lost in the mists of the recent past. Sure, Tummy's tummy protruded like a bass drum on a member of a marching band, but that's not uncommon for men, and he'd carried the name well before he acquired his bulging molson's muscle. The origin of his name is irrelevant to this story anyway, because it takes place after Tummy died. After all the wild and memorable events in his life which probably should have killed him, Tummy died in hospital of "poor health". He'd once leapt off the tallest bridge in town, surviving only because he missed the rowboat into which he had been trying to land, cursing because he'd somehow dropped his rum bottle on the way down. His poor health was undoubtedly directly related to a lifetime of intemperance. Lying in the sterile hospital bed, his last request was that his ashes be taken up the river into the bush where his fishing camp was located, a focal point of good times. He wished that the ashes be scattered over the Musquash River that meandered by the camp, and asked that his two closest fishing and drinking friends, Jack and Gilles, carry his cremains up the old logging roads to the camp on the Musquash, there to perform the honours. The boys were pleased with Tummy's death bed request not just because they were flattered to be chosen, but also because it meant they had a good reason to £0 to the old camp for the week-end. For the Journey, they lodged Tummy's container of ashes between two crates of beer in the bed of the pick up truck. But once off the pavement and onto the rough logging roads, the jar tipped sideways. the cover popped off, and good part of Tummy spilled into the corrugated surface of the bed liner. Jack and Gilles stopped the truck to assess the situation. The day was hot and sunny. dust from the road filtered through the princess pines, red squirrels chattered. and serenity enveloped Jack and Gilles. It was agreed something to wet the whistle would be required given the pleasant day. the solemnity of the occasion and the severity of the problem. At length. with a little housecleaning from the greasy rag that Gilles used to check the oil level on the truck, they managed to get I most of Tummy back in the jar. Tummy was then more securely braced with a propane tank on one side and a carton of canned goods on the other, buttressed by crates of beer on the opposing sides. While the boys fished for salmon out of the rough old camp frequently, they didn't often bring back fish. Some attributed this to a scarcity of fish in the river. Others would claim the salmon is a wily fish, and the fisherman lost some of their stealth after several trips to the cabin for throat lubrication. 1 always felt that both sides had truth and common sense going for them. Near the camp, the river slows. and a log bridge built on rock cribs crosses it. This was where the boys had agreed to deposit old Tummy's cremains. But how? Is there some sort of rite? Tummy had never been within a hundred yards of a church, so it didn't seem he would have asked for a prayer. Besides, Jack had once been asked to say grace at a Sportsman's dinner, and all he'd been able to mumble was "Good God, Good Grief, Lets Eat." and that was hardly appropriate. A few more beers, they thought, would aid them in determining how this should be done. At last, for lack of any other plan, Gilles removed the jar and cautiously sprinkled a little bit of Tummy off the bridge. The ash gently drifted down to the water. a few heavier bits dropping quite rapidly to the surface, then gently sinking. From the green shadowed water where the current had etched a deeper trough adjacent to the bridge cribs, a dark form appeared, and as a morsel drifted to the bottom, a behemoth of a salmon gently inhaled it. "My Lord", gasped Jack, "I've never caught a fish that big." "We've never seen a fish that big", corrected Gilles. Depositing the ashes of a lifelong friend in their final resting place is, of course, a mission of near reverent scope. So too, is fishing, and no fisherman Sor Continued on page 6 Rmw Resume Preparation Typing Bookkeeping Fax Service -- pick up and delivery available -- Ratlngn W. Walker WeCanthy Tel: 476-9032 / Fax: 476-9111 473 Kelly Road, Cherry Valley - by appointment please ---