Martin and Casey sat in a small boat in the middle of their favorite pond. It had been an hour with no bites and no words.
“Martin,” Casey said. “If possible for you to master a skill which would it be?”
Casey thought deeply. Nothing came to mind immediately. “I suppose that is something I’ve never considered. I’d like to be a better fisherman.”
“That’s it,” Martin said. “What about art, the crafts, academics, the trades, medicine, science, literature, or music?”
“Those are all filled,” Martin said.
“But what if you could be better than the best in one of those fields?” Casey said.
“I would just be a part of some intellectual exchange on whose the best,” Martin said. “And now that you have given me time to think about it, I’d just like to be a better person. That‘s a skill with a wide open field and few pursuing it.”
Nothing was said for a few moments.
Martin’s pole quivered.
“I think you have something nibbling on your line,” Casey said.
“Fish don’t lie,” Martin smiled. “They know who the best fisherman is.”