The Two Fishermen – a fable on Navigating the Work – Life Conundrum

Both Jake and Blython were fishermen in their early 40s with a small family and they lived in the same village. They knew of each other but kept themselves to themselves most of the time.

One morning, as it happened, they saw each other in the tackle shop on their way to work, and started talking during the remaining twenty minutes’ walk to where their boats were.

“I’ve been curious,” Blython began. “How do you manage to get it done so fast? I know we usually go out at about the same time, but every time I get back, I see you look like you’ve been back a while already!”

“Oh!” Jake shrugged, while tightening his eyebrows a little, as if he was processing something he hadn’t given much thought to before. “It doesn’t usually take that long to catch enough for the day or a couple of days’ worth. Why, how do you do it?”

“A couple of days?” Blython exclaimed, bewildered. “You’ve got all day out there, why would you come back with only a couple of days’ worth of goods? What do you do for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I keep some for my family, and I sell the rest for other supplies,” said Jake, sounding a little uncertain for stating the obvious to his compatriot. “Rest of the time? Well, we have long meals together, usually; then I’ll see what my children are up to, sometimes we go for long walks, and I do a bit of woodwork as a side hobby. Right now, I am building a tree house for the kids!”

“Then, how are you going to retire?”

“How do you mean?” said Jake, flicking his gaze in the direction of the ocean, while trying to make the connection.

“Oh, I want to be retiring five years from now!” Blython announced. “I have a plan; I know how much I need to haul in every day, how much I need to sell it for, and how much to put away.”

“I see!” said Jake. “That explains why you are out there all the time! So, what will you do when you retire?”

“Well, by then, I will have time for all the other things, like taking walks during the day, or spending more time with my family and having meals together with them. I might even grow my own vegetables in the back garden, never know!”

The conversation halted abruptly as soon as they turned the corner to the pier and were greeted by the sight of their livelihood. They went to work on their respective vessels and parted ways without much of a goodbye; perhaps it was a subconscious act, since in both their minds, fragments of their brief exchanges lingered.

In the following week, Blython had surprised his family by being home in time for dinner for one of the evenings; they were pleased to see him, although their first reaction was to enquire if something had happened. At the other end of the village, Jake had un-customarily disappointed his children because he hadn’t made it back in time for one of their regular walks.

As the months passed, these types of anomalies had started appearing more regularly, even graduating themselves into perceivable patterns and habitual expectations. For Jake, his family had begun getting used to him missing dinners and had learnt to remind him that he had promised to go for a walk. However, his wife had been appreciative of the enhanced income from his longer hours at work and the warm feeling of security with the healthier looking nest egg. In Blython’s household, their reserve was not growing at the same rate but the new vegetables plot in their back garden seemed to be serving well as a new pastime for the whole family.

It was a regular day during a regular week, and recently developed habits notwithstanding, it was a regular workday out for both Jake and Blython. The two found themselves rigging their respective boats at the pier, and despite being at plausible greetings distance from each other, an unspoken understanding passed between them as they chose to focus on the task at hand. What they were less aware of was how they had impacted each other’s life during their brief contact all those months ago. Today, Blython’s mind was already on how he was going to harvest those tomatoes from his back garden to go with the evening meal with his family, while Jake was looking forward to letting his wife know that they had managed to put aside yet another month’s worth of reserve.

The two men were still underway to their fishing grounds when the weather began taking a turn for the ominous. From experience, they understood that the choices were to return to shore for guaranteed safety, but they would risk choppier water and aggressive broken waves along the way; or sail even further out, where they would be pelted by the passing storm but at least the waves would cause no more harm than bouts of seasickness. Intuitively, both also knew that they were in a bind because they were at the geographical coordinate where either approach was just as sensible and risky as the other.

The two boats were separated by a mile and with no means to communicate, it was each to their own. Jake had decided to turn back to shore while Blython ramped up his engine to venture further out to calmer seas. It was despicably cruel for Mother Nature to show off her prowess in this way, with a flick of her finger, the sudden squall whipped up a wave so high, Blython’s vessel was mindlessly swallowed up with barely discernable efforts; no more than a few seconds later, the waves broke and Jake’s boat was hammered into unrecognizable debris.

If you were to visit the village today, the half-finished tree house still served as Jake’s memorial, with loving words carved into the ladder steps on the tree trunk. Over at Blython’s place, a simple headstone was erected in the now defunct vegetables plot.