Excerpted from Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan, ©1967:

Knowing the trout would wait there like airplane tickets for us to come, we stopped at Mushroom Springs and had a drink of cold shadowy water and some photographs taken of the baby and me sitting together on a log.

I hope someday we’ll have enough money to get those pictures developed. Sometimes I get curious about them, wondering if they will turn out all right. They are in suspension now like seeds in a package. I’ll be older when they are developed and easier to please. Look there’s the baby! Look there’s Mushroom Springs! Look there’s me!

Anticipation used to be an integral part of our lives.

We’d take a photo that we might not see until months later.

We’d hear a song on the radio, and if we liked it we’d have to wait until they played it again, or drive into town to buy the 45 then drive back home to play it.

Christmas specials were only on once a year, and we’d rearrange our schedules to see them– because if we missed them this year, we wouldn’t get the chance again until next year.

I’m not sure instant gratification is better.  I suspect not.  But there’s no going back.

1 Comment

  1. markonit

    …*sigh* I wonder if other animals have feelings of such melancholy as time passes them by…


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