best friends for life!

Years ago, I met my best friend on a dating site called Plenty of Fish. We started by communicating through the site. After we both felt comfortable, we began texting and calling each other. Eventually, we made plans to meet in person.

When I first met her, there was something about her that intrigued me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew she was a good person. She had a great heart and loved to help others.

From our phone conversations, I learned that she was going through a lot. She told me she was really unhappy and experiencing depression, which was how I felt about myself as well.

We started hanging out on a friends-only basis, and I made that clear from the beginning. Neither of us was in a position for a healthy relationship, but maybe we could help each other.

She would often tell me how depressed she was and how much she wanted to be happy. The only two things I found that brought me happiness were fishing and the river. I started thinking maybe I should invite her to the river.

Fishing for me began at an early age with my grandfather. I was actually a pretty decent fisherman. In everything I've done in my life, I like to take it to the next level, and the river, in my eyes, was my home.

I decided to take her to a spot on the river called Gentle Breeze. I planned on introducing her to the river, telling her how I felt about it and what it meant to me. I would explain how I could draw from its energy and use it to release bad memories into the water.

We had probably been hanging out for about three weeks at that point. We were sitting on the little sandbar at Gentle Breeze. I had found two pieces of shiny metal from a discarded lawn chair. Using some discarded fishing string, I made a cross and placed it on the sandbar.

I told her the cross would make boaters think someone was buried there and maybe remind them to say a prayer.

She was sitting in front of the cross in the sand. She looked at me and asked if she could ask me a question.

"I really want to die," she told me. "I could never bring myself to do it. I need someone to do it for me. Would you please kill me and bury me on the river?" I sat back, not knowing what to say. "Give me three weeks, and I'll answer your question," I finally replied.

The sun was bright and shiny that day, and the cross behind her head shifted in the wind. The sun reflecting off that cross is something I'll never forget.

Of course, I knew I could never kill anyone. I thought to myself, was it possible I could give her a gift? The same gift my grandpa gave me many years earlier? I looked at her and asked, "Do you like to fish?"

She told me that yes, she loved to fish and that her brothers would take her all the time. I asked her if she would like to go fishing the following weekend. "Of course, I would love to go fishing with you," she said.

I told her about one of my favorite fishing ponds, nicknamed the Crappie Enhancement Pond. It was stocked with largemouth bass, crappie, and catfish, along with other species. I let her know that we had to walk a distance to the pond, as it was on conservation land and no vehicles were allowed past the parking spots.

A fishing date was set for the following Saturday. I figured we would go there, catch our limit of fish, and have a fish fry together. I was really looking forward to a great day of fishing.

I picked her up early Saturday morning, and off we went. We were both excited about the day. She didn't have a fishing pole or any gear, but that was okay. I had plenty to share; fishing is about sharing.

The place we were going was probably a little over an hour away. I was hoping she would see some wildlife on the way, as nature always has a way of cheering someone up.

She had told me her brothers taught her how to fish. After about a mile walk, we finally reached the Crappie Enhancement Pond. I recommended she go down by the drain tube, where I knew the crappie were abundant. "She should have a blast," I thought.

I told her we had to make our first cast at the same time. On the way to the pond, I had mentioned that I like to play a dollar for the first fish – whoever catches the first one gets a dollar from the other. Our signature "1, 2, 3 cast away" was born.

It took me less than a minute to catch a crappie. I asked her how the fish were biting at the tube. When I didn't get a response, I looked down towards where she was fishing.

She hadn't made a single cast into the water. She didn't even know how to cast a fishing pole. She was so upset because she thought I would be angry with her.

She told me that her brothers were mean to her when they took her fishing. They would yell and scream at her and make fun of her. She really didn't know how to fish. I asked her to sit with me on the dam. I explained to her what fishing meant to me and where I learned to fish. I consoled her and let her know I was in no way, shape, or form angry.

I told her my Grandpa would probably "beat my tail" if I ever treated someone poorly when it came to fishing. It was still early in the morning. I laid my pole down on the dam and sat there with her. I taught her the proper way to tie a hook while we sat there. It took her a while, and she was surprised that I was so patient and able to teach her correctly.

"We're going to spend the whole day here until you catch a fish," I told her. "I have an opportunity to give you a gift." I then began working with her on proper casting techniques. As I was working with her, a plan came to me.

I told her that I was positive that one day she could catch the fish of a lifetime. That's when I used my imagination to create her training schedule.

I told her there were three stages to becoming a good fisherman, each representing a level of skill. You start as a grasshopper, then move up to a cricket, and finally, a katydid represents a great fisherman.

The grasshopper, the cricket, and then the katydid. I made up a little story to tell her. I explained that if she was ever going to become a great friend, she had to begin as a grasshopper. I let her know that a grasshopper can jump and spit tobacco juice – somewhat impressive for an insect.

I told her that when I was ready to graduate her to the cricket level, the training would become a lot more fun. The cricket, just like the grasshopper, can jump and spit tobacco. Only, a cricket can jump much farther than a grasshopper. The cricket also possesses a talent the grasshopper does not: the cricket is a great singer.

Then, I told her that if she was ever able to catch that fish of a lifetime, I would then graduate her to katydid. A katydid can spit tobacco juice much farther than the grasshopper. A katydid can jump way farther than both the grasshopper and the cricket. A katydid can sing louder and more beautifully than a cricket. The main goal to reach katydid status is because they know how to fly!

She instantly wanted to be a katydid. I knew she had a long, long way to go. She seemed to love my little story. That's when I told her to come with me, "little grasshopper, it is now time for you to catch your first fish!"

It took us the rest of the day. As I was teaching her the proper ways to do things, I also shared some of the very tall fishing tales I learned from my grandfather. I was making her comfortable while she was learning. And then it happened.

She was able to tie her own jig on the line and cast it out properly. After a few good casts, I witnessed her reel in her very first fish. Of course, with all her excitement and thrill about what she had just accomplished, she instantly thought she was a cricket. I decided not to tell her that wasn't the case until the next time we went fishing.

I was very proud of her and felt super honored to be the person to give her the gift of a lifetime. I knew how my grandpa must have felt when I caught my first fish.

On our way home that evening, I told her that we were fishing in a pond, which is where grasshoppers like to fish. I explained that the conservation department even offered awards called Master Angler awards for people who were "Cricket" fishermen.

She was hooked. She wanted that Missouri Master Angler Award no matter what. I let her know that after I felt comfortable with her being a grasshopper, we would move on to the next body of water, where the fish are much bigger and not so easy to catch. Lake fishing was in her future.

I personally don't have any Missouri Master Angler Awards. I let her know that some people call me the "fishing Ninja." The following weekend, I took my new friend to Cabela's to show her the giant fish in their aquarium. She was totally in awe.

She thought these fish were robots; she didn't think they were real. As her love for fishing began to blossom, we were becoming really good friends. We continued fishing in ponds for almost a year until I was confident that she was ready for the next level.

Most of our fishing was done at a place called Happy Holler, a conservation area with multiple ponds along with a really nice big lake. I was teaching her that fishing is not only about catching fish; it's so much more involved than just trying to hook one.

I started teaching her to speak the "owl language" fluently. I was teaching her that the best bait is always free bait. I was letting her know she would be rewarded if she took care of the environment while fishing. If you put a little effort into the preparation of fishing, the sky's the limit.

When we go fishing, it's about our surroundings, the beauty that Mother Nature offers us, and about fellowship and companionship. When you catch a fish, that's just an added bonus. She really liked all the things I was telling her.

My new friend was a great singer. She had sung at Carnegie Hall in her past and on Broadway. I let her know that sometimes you needed to sing to the fish to get them to bite. She was enthused and ready to sing to the fish.

At first, she wasn't very fond of fishing at night. All the weird animal noises you can hear can definitely scare someone. That's when I introduced our first theme song, "Fishing in the Dark" by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. That made night fishing a little more bearable.

We had reached a point in both our friendship and our ability to fish that I felt it was time. It was time for my little grasshopper friend to jump – to jump where the big boys are, at the lake. The lake is where she would be able to earn her cricket status.

One time on the way to the lake, we spotted an owl in the ditch. We went ahead and fished at the lake for about five hours and then headed home. The owl was still in the ditch, so I pulled over because she, of course, could now speak fluent owl.

It was a big barn owl. I knew the danger of trying to deal with it, but for her, I took my jacket off and laid it over the owl. It was either sick or injured. I picked the owl up and put it in my truck, in the seat between us.

We were both able to touch and pet the owl. She wanted to keep it so badly, but I told her we couldn't and needed to call the conservation department. It was nighttime, so we had to call the poachers division. They informed us that if we were caught with this owl, we could both face a $10,000 fine and 10 years in prison.

I explained to her what I had learned in my past: it's better to let nature take its course and end the suffering of an animal. I pulled over at the next pond, where I knew the coyotes were plentiful. We put the owl by the pond so it could at least be comfortable before the coyotes showed up. We have no idea what happened to that owl, but again, a story was born.

We continued fishing at the lake, and she was becoming pretty decent at it. Sometimes it would rain, and she didn't really like being in the rain. I knew how much she liked to sing, and I can tell you that her voice is truly angelic.

I explained to her that the fish bite better in the rain and told her the reasons why. The rain adds oxygen to the water, which wakes up the fish. I let her know that the rain would wash bugs into the water, and the fish would go on a frenzy. This is when I decided to give her a second fishing theme song: "I Never Used to Like the Rain Before I Walked Through It With You" by Clint Black.

We planned a fishing trip for the night of July 4th, 2016. We were going to go to Happy Holler Lake to try our luck. Not long after we both cast out into the water, she got the first bite. She hooked her fish, and I watched as she did everything just right to land it. She kept telling me it felt big.

When she got the fish close enough to see, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a big largemouth bass. Of course, I always have a fish scale with me. After she got her catch on the bank, I weighed it for her, and it came in at six pounds and four ounces.

She was super excited and kept asking me if this meant that she was a cricket now. I told her that in all my years of fishing, she had just done something I had never done. Her fish qualified for a Missouri Master Angler Award. "Of course, you are a cricket now, my friend!" I said. I was so proud that my grasshopper friend had achieved cricket status in such a way.

I don't really know what was going on that night, but fishing was definitely in her stars. Two hours went by, and we had caught a few catfish. Then she got another bite and hooked into a fish. She thought this one felt big as well. When she got it on the bank, I weighed her second largemouth bass. It weighed 5 pounds and 7 ounces.

The limit for largemouth bass that you could catch and possess at the lake was two. Mere hours after she became a cricket, she had won her second Master Angler Award in the same night. She was really happy that she had caught her limit, and they were both angler awards.

I let her move in with me to be my roommate. We were becoming the best of friends, and our friendship was mostly based around fishing.

Of course, after catching those two largemouth bass, her focus was to become a katydid. It was time to tell her what was next.

I let her know that if she was ever to become a katydid, she had to learn to fish the mighty Missouri River. I told her it's a whole new monster and that her fish of a lifetime could be lurking somewhere in that river.

I had two very nice fishing rods and reels that I used to fish on the river. She fell in love with one of them. We had never used them because we had never gone fishing in the river. I let her hold the rod and reel that she liked, and she was in love.

I made a deal with her: if she ever made it to katydid status, I would be more than happy to let her have it as her first river rod. I began teaching her how to fish in the river. It takes a while, of course, but she started getting used to the currents, learning to cast downstream, and recognizing what the bites might feel like.

I was teaching her how to build safe campfires on the river and how to identify the animals making noises. I was teaching her all about the river. I was now the one telling tall tales about fish that swallow boats and catfish that look like whales, telling tales so she could start to imagine what kind of fish were in the river.

It was August 17th, 2017. We planned a nighttime fishing trip to the river. We did everything the way I had taught her. We went out and caught our own nightcrawlers and then took them to a nearby pond to catch perch. We then took our perch and leftovers to the river with us. The best bait to use is always free bait!

After we arrived at the riverbank that night, we set up our area. We both chose our spot and settled into our chairs. She wanted to use half of a perch as bait. We both baited our hooks and set our rods down in their rod holders. We always cast at the same time.

When we were both ready, the signature "1, 2, 3 cast away" was called, and we both cast into the river. She was using the rod and reel that she really wanted. It only took about 15 minutes after we cast out when she got the biggest bite on her rod. Again, she did everything perfectly and hooked into a fish.

I knew instantly that she had a big fish on. I grabbed my rod and reel and reeled it in so she could have more room. I told her that this might be her one and only opportunity to catch a fish of a lifetime – a true Missouri River monster.

She started screaming, "No, no, no, it's going to pull me in! It's way too big and heavy for me! You have to take this rod, I can't do it!" I told her, "No way, this fish is not pulling you in. We've been training for this moment for years. You can do this!"

She was in the fight of her life. After about 30 minutes, she pleaded with me to take the rod from her. I told her that I couldn't do that, but I would be right there with her every step of the way. I coached her, and she was doing an awesome job. I let her know that katydids would never hand their rod to someone else.

I stood beside her the entire time. I never once took hold of that rod. I encouraged her, supported her, and coached her on what to do, but I never touched that rod. It took at least 90 minutes before I finally got a glimpse of what she had caught.

When she finally got it to the bank, I told her to close her eyes, and I would get it out of the water so she could see what she had just done. Alright, let's polish this up for you! Here's the revised version with attention to grammar, spelling, punctuation, proofreading, and proper paragraphing:

I retrieved this fish from the edge of the water and laid it in front of her. "I'll let her know that you can open her eyes now," I said.

"OMG! Is that real? That's one of the robots from Cabela's. Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen someone so excited in my entire life." Time literally stood still for a minute. Then she grabbed me and hugged me like I never dreamed someone could be hugged. The celebration we began on that river bank that night is priceless.

It's a memory that still makes me tear up to this day. My fish scales only weighed up to 50 lbs, so they were no match for this fish. I had no way to weigh it. I have become friends with agents from our conservation department, so I made a call.

She really wanted to know how much her fish weighed. Unfortunately, we would have to wait until morning to find out. I had to use a rope instead of a stringer so that her catch would not escape. I told her a little bit and that I had called a friend; he was coming in the morning with scales from his grocery store – scales big enough to weigh her fish.

As morning rolled around, I got a text letting me know that they were on their way. She had no clue what I had done.

After about 45 minutes, I told her to look up at the path. There were four Missouri fish biologists and one Missouri conservation agent walking towards us. She thought that she might be in trouble. When they joined us on the riverbank, they told her that they had brought official Missouri fish weighing scales.

I helped her, and we pulled the fish from the water and handed it to the biologists. Two of them held the fish up on their scales. Her fish officially weighed in at 52 lbs and 4 oz. They verified that it was a Missouri blue catfish.

Then they shared with her the best news of all: this blue catfish was well above the qualifications for the Missouri Master Angler Award. They congratulated her, as did I. They gave her an option: they would be happy to tag this fish and return it to the river, or she could take it home. She was faced with a real fisherman's decision.

She looked at me for advice, but I wasn't giving her any. This was all her. The decision she made would be with her forever. She started talking it out loud. "If I release it back into the river, someone else could experience what I experienced in the future. I wouldn't want to rob any fisherman of an experience like this."

She looked at the conservation agent and asked him to please tag the fish. After the tag was placed on the fish, she asked me for my fillet knife.

And what she did is exactly what I would have done. She reached down with my knife and cut the rope that was holding the fish. She set him free to fight another day. The biologists, the conservation agent, and myself all applauded her decision. I was so proud of her that night. It is irreplaceable and will never be duplicated.

We all knew at this point that her next question would be if she was now a "Katydid." I didn't answer her because I wanted her graduation to be something unique and memorable. I couldn't come up with a good enough plan to graduate her. It was driving me nuts. How was I going to present the rod and reel she loved so much to my best friend to be her own?

I can't make up what happens next, even with my wild imagination. About two weeks after her big catch, we went fishing at the lake.

We were sitting there fishing, maybe 10 feet apart, and she started screaming and yelling, "OMG, what is this that is on your rod?!" I thought for sure some sort of snake or crazy water creature was on her rod.

I went over to her to investigate and have a look for myself. It took me a minute to catch my breath and wipe the tears from my face. What was crawling up the rod was an actual live katydid. I could feel my grandpa standing beside me. It wasn't me at all that graduated her. I felt such joy for her. As I told her, "This was meant to be; you are for sure my Katydid!"

And what she said next proved it. She said that she loved her life and never wanted to die as long as there was fishing. What started as a 3-week process (when I was told to give it 3 weeks) turned into a 5-year friendship – a friendship built around the very thing that ever made me happy. It was built around fishing. It was built around tall tales. It was about learning. It was about growing. It was built around living. The final theme song I have for her is "And She Thought We Were Just Fishing" by Trace Adkins.

She was so happy in her own life that she took flight like a katydid. She is now in a happy relationship with someone and spends time with her kids. We still speak from time to time on Messenger. She loves my stories that I used to tell on the banks of the lakes, rivers, and ponds. This story is about how two people can grow to become best friends with nothing more than being friends. The last message she sent me was when I sent her a copy of a new story that I had just written. She responded that she had been life-flighted to KU Hospital with a stroke and that it was the story I wrote that allowed her to smile from that hospital bed.

This one is for you, Mary Shalene Bales aka "the Bass Queen." You are my very best friend. No one will ever be able to replace you in that role in my life. I miss you, and I'm so glad you've found happiness. I love you.

1 2 3 cast away!