Crazy Kiwi . . .

“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” E. B White

“He had been thinking of Kiwis because he knew that his last customer of the season as luck would have it, was a Kiwi name of Finn, and the guy, if he was anything like the other New Zealanders he’d had as customers, would probably be a loony. And it turned out his suspicions, or perhaps more correctly stated, his judgment, was spot on; simply put, Finn was just plain nuts. No two ways about it; that was the only way to describe him. So much so, that he and Cuco became instant friends, and no amount of tomfoolery or monkey business was ever enough for either of them—proof enough his analysis had been correct. On their first morning together, Arturo realized that at long last, Cuco had met his match; that there lived a human equal, and the three days they fished together were such a riot, such a demonstration of the joys of living, of squeezing every bit of juice out of every minute of the day, out of life in general, that Arturo wondered more than once what divine intervention had kept this Finn alive this long—and Cuco too, for that matter.

The first day, they had fished in the bay, and right off they landed a whopper salmon, the biggest Arturo had ever seen, so much so that at first he didn’t think it could be a salmon. It looked a lot longer and bigger around than he had imagined a salmon could be, a true monster of the open ocean, and one that had taken Finn more than two hours of fighting, or more appropriately stated, of all-out combat, to get it tired enough to pull alongside the boat. For two hours, Finn had not only fought the fish but did it whooping like a madman, howling like a wolf every so often, and generally hollering and carrying on the entire time, like a kid with a runaway kite, continually brandishing the fishing pole over his head, then suddenly whipping it from left to right, all the time, as far as Arturo could tell, cussing and cursing full volumes in his native tongue, with Cuco trumpeting right along from the stern seat, trying his best to keep up. Arturo was glad they were in the bay, with not too many other boats about, or for sure they would have attracted a crowd. But that’s not all. Once the fish was brought alongside the boat, and he realized the size of this galoot, he was unsure how to best get it in the boat and was about to ask Finn’s opinion, when this fruitcake from New Zealand dropped his glasses on the seat and without any hesitation jumped in, coming up under the fish, pushing it over and in. Then, in one quick move, bounded up belly high to the gunnels and flopped over on top of it, laughing all the time, like no big deal. Cuco had just stood there admiring, flatfooted, actually coming as close to a round of applause as a penguin could, doing several full circles on the stern seat, tapping with his webbed feet, then chirping and twittering in pure delight and celebration. Arturo shook his head, smiled, and decided that these two were made from the same mold.”

From About Face.