Terry: A Good Man
I met Terry about sixteen years ago, just after purchasing a small bungalow in Estero, a quaint community tucked away in Ensenada, Mexico. My new home was a modest investment, but the peace and quiet of the place, with its close connection to nature, made it worth so much more. Across the street lived Terry, a man who would soon become a close companion in this new chapter of my life.
Terry was easygoing, with a quick smile that instantly put you at ease. Yet there was a depth to him—a seriousness that made every conversation feel meaningful. He wasn't the kind of person who'd overwhelm you with information, even though he probably knew more about Estero than most locals. I was green, fresh to this place I would eventually call home, and whenever I had questions—no matter how basic—Terry would listen patiently and answer in a way that never made me feel naive. He had a knack for cutting through confusion without overloading me, offering advice in small, digestible pieces that were just what I needed at the time.
Some of Terry’s best advice came in the form of fishing tips, which quickly became the lifeblood of our early friendship. Estero, as I came to discover, was a paradise for fishermen, and my passion for it was rekindled almost immediately after arriving. In my youth, fishing had been a bonding ritual with my father, who used to take me to a quiet river near his childhood home in Curtisville, Michigan. We never caught much, but the memories stuck with me, laying the foundation for my love of the sport.
By the time I arrived in Estero, my experience was limited to the quiet shores of Michigan, where fishing meant digging for worms and waiting hours for a bite. The first time I ventured out in Estero, I brought that same mindset—sitting patiently by the shore with frozen bait, hoping for a fish to bite. I must’ve looked quite the amateur compared to Terry, who never said a word but probably found my approach amusing.
Despite my rudimentary methods, I did manage to catch a few fish—small ones, about 12 inches or so, which, to me, were impressive at the time. Then I’d watch as Terry would come back from the bay with massive halibut or corvina, his catches putting mine to shame. I wasn’t exactly jealous, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit envious. Still, I wasn’t ready to leap into those waters just yet. And Terry, ever patient, never rushed me. He’d share small bits of advice when I asked, just enough to help me get better, but always leaving room for me to learn on my own.
Eventually, I became a decent fisherman—though nowhere near Terry’s level. But our relationship had grown beyond fishing by then. Our conversations started to dive deeper. We talked about life, how we both ended up in Estero, and the journeys we’d been on. Terry had lived a life full of adventure. He shared stories of fishing tournaments he had won, not just in Mexico but around the world. He wasn’t bragging—there was a humility in his words, a wisdom born from experience.
Though we only saw each other when our trips to Estero overlapped, I looked forward to those times. Terry was one of the first people to make me feel at home in that little slice of paradise. Over the years, Estero became more than just a fishing haven—it became a place where I felt a sense of belonging, thanks in part to Terry’s warmth and openness.
Today, I’m retired and spend most of my time in Mexico, a place that has become more than a vacation spot—it’s where I feel at peace. Terry, meanwhile, moved to Oregon, but he still comes down to visit for weeks at a time, and when he does, it feels like no time has passed. He still has incredible fishing stories, and I still listen with the same excitement I felt sixteen years ago. But the most valuable lessons Terry taught me weren’t about catching fish—they were about kindness, patience, and the quiet power of simply making someone feel welcome.
We still laugh about some of my early fishing mishaps—some of which I still manage to repeat. And while I’ve caught my share of fish over the years, one of the greatest catches was meeting a friend like Terry.