Ever since I was seven, I have been volunteering at the Kennedy Creek Salmon Trail, docenting and teaching visitors about the chum that run there every autumn. While my experience there is not a direct parellel of Scout's experience with Boo Radley, it has been instrumental in showing me the succession from stage to stage in the human life.
Upon first seeing the chum salmon, gasping out their last breaths in the struggle to reproduce, I was filled with a sense of awe and curiosity. It was strange to me that such a beautiful creature could be found so close to my home. As I learned about them, their meaning to me changed. From a stinky smelling meal at home, they became an entity all their own. Day after day I returned to teach people about these fish, but ended up learning more myself.
Each female salmon, upon finding a place in the gravel bed with significant oxygen, begins to excavate a nest. These nests are called "reds", and are made as the female flaps her coddle fin onto the stream bed, creating a small vacuum. These reds take days to make, and so, already moldy with the white film of exhaustion, the female must then fight to retain her spot on the gravel. The salmon slowly became individuals to me. That female had been working for days, her striped companion floating encouragingly beside her. This female, old and close to her end, grasped a protruding root with her powerful jaws, in a vain effort to stay with her bright orange eggs. That male, a once-was dominant, struggled to fight off his younger, stronger adversary. The more time I spent watching them, the more I came to respect them as individuals.
Even though I might not have been going through puberty at the time, a similar disturbance was taking place within my life. Recently, my parents had divorced, and so I was in the process of discovering my identity without my family as a whole. Like the dying fish who struggled to hold her own in the current, I was striving to maintain my sense of self as everything I felt sure about was washed away from beneath my feet. The salmon always fought. I respected their courage in the face of ominous doom, and tried to reciprocate it within my own life.
Eventually, the rain begins to fall. The current in the river quickens, dragging the weak from their reds and washing them onto the shore. So I had to let go of my past and embrace the new and strange. However, it was not the end for the salmon, and so I realized it didn't have to be the end for me. Even after death, the salmon enriches the environment. Its death is the equivalent for the life of so many others. This metaphor gave me the strength to realize that even after the loss of my previous life, my future could be just as bright. This, in so many ways, is true. In an odd way my family is closer than ever before. Our loss provided the nutrients for our future to grow and mature.
In this way, docenting at the Kennedy Creek Salmon Trial parellels what Boo Radley was to Scout: a symbol to guide the process of transition, be it within yourself, or within your surroundings.
No comments:
Post a Comment