If you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day. If you teach a man to fish, he will spend a bunch of money on new fishing gear that he’ll use once and then leave in his garage for ten years.
Then, after a decade of collecting dust, the fishing gear will finally have a purpose. You see, the man will be asked to go on a fishing-themed bachelor-party trip—his friend is getting remarried—and he’ll go to R.E.I. to buy a fishing pole. And, while waiting in line, he’ll remember that he already has a pole (the one that you basically made him get when you taught him how to fish). So he’ll abandon his R.E.I. shopping cart, run home, and pull everything out of storage—the pole, the tackle box, even the wrinkled T-shirt that says “Gone Fishing, Back Never!” And he’ll think, I remember how to do this.
And he will go on the fishing-themed bachelor trip. And on the trip, his friend—who is getting remarried—will ask the man to teach him how to cast a line, and the man will recall what you taught him. And the man’s friend will be impressed and feel safe enough to confess that he doesn’t want to get remarried, because he isn’t really in love again. He actually isn’t sure that he’s ever felt love before.
“What is love?” the friend will ask. “Is it what we see in the movies and on TV? Is it a feeling or an action? Is it God?”
“This is love,” the man will reply, motioning between them. “Being vulnerable. Being open. That’s love. Now help me reel this in!”
And the man and his friend will reel in the line, and on the end of it they will find, instead of a fish, a severed human hand. And they will scream. And they will report it to the local police. And it will totally derail the bachelor trip.
And the man will become a suspect in the case. And, even though he is innocent, he will leave the country out of resentment, vowing never to return. And this will make him look even more guilty. And the man will miss his friend’s wedding. And his friend will look out into the pews and realize that the man isn’t there, and he will take this as a sign that love is God, and the friend will call off the wedding and join the ministry.
And the man will bounce around overseas for a while—first in Greece, where he will get a job on a fishing boat, catching as many fish as possible, trying to fill a void in himself that was created by the severed hand. And, eventually, wanted posters for the man will go up on a nearby Greek island which read “Have you seen this man? Because he probably cut off someone’s hand.”
And the man’s crew will start to ask too many questions. And, instead of trying to prove his innocence, he will move to Nepal, where he will attempt to climb Mount Everest. And, when he nearly runs out of oxygen, he will understand what it is like to be one of the fish he knows how to catch, and he will feel a deep, sad empathy that he has never felt before. And he will legally change his name to Fish.
And then, finally, Fish will settle down in Lithuania. And, in Lithuania, he will learn the language and build himself a house near a small village at the edge of a lake, where he will live by himself. And, one day, a stranger will walk up to him and say, “I see you fishing here every day, and you catch so many, but you always let them go.” And it will be true—ever since Everest, Fish hasn’t been able to eat a single fish. He just watches them gasp for breath, then, just before they pass over into death, he throws them back in the water, tears streaming down his face.
And the stranger will say, “Would you teach me how to fish?” And the man will look up, wipe his eyes, smile, take a deep breath, and say, “Absolutely fucking not.”
The Squandered Promise of Chet Hanks’s White-Boy Summer