I thought I was just going fishing with an old man I’d met by chance, but the letter I received months later revealed a secret that would leave me forever changed—and with a gift that would fulfill my wildest dreams.
Living in an old trailer wasn’t as bad as it sounds, or at least that’s what I told myself. It was just me and Mom. We’ve been on our own since Dad left when I was six. Honestly, I barely remember him, but Mom… well, she never says much about him. We don’t talk about it.
“Adam, can you grab the mail?” Mom would call out from the couch. Her legs were often propped up on a pillow, and she winced with every movement. She’d been in a car accident years ago, and her limp made standing or walking for long periods difficult. Still, she worked long shifts at the gas station just to keep us afloat.
“Sure, Mom,” I would reply grabbing my coat. I didn’t mind doing the little things to help. It made me feel like I was making a difference, even if it was just fetching mail or fixing dinner.
Most days after school, I would find something to do outside the trailer—anything to take my mind off things. But little did I know that at the age of 13, my life would change.
That day, I was tossing an old, deflated soccer ball at some bottles I’d set up like bowling pins. It wasn’t much, but it helped pass the time.
Then, out of nowhere, this shiny black SUV rolled up next to the trailer. The windows were tinted, and I stared at it for a second, wondering who on earth would come around here in something that fancy.
The door creaked open, and out stepped this old man, probably in his 70s or 80s, leaning on a cane but with a warm smile on his face. He waved.
“Hey there,” he said, slowly walking over. “Mind if I take a shot?” He pointed at the bottles I had lined up.
I blinked. “Uh, sure, I guess,” I said, not really sure what to make of him.
He chuckled. “Tell you what, let’s make it interesting. If I get a strike, I’ll ask you for a favor, and you can’t say no. But if I miss, I’ll hand you a hundred bucks. Deal?”
My eyes practically popped out of my head. A hundred bucks? I could almost hear the register in my brain ringing. “Deal,” I said quickly.
The man leaned down, picked up the deflated ball, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it. The thing rolled straight into the bottles, knocking every last one down. I stood there, jaw dropped. No way.
The old man laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “Looks like I won,” he said. “Now, for that favor.”
I swallowed, curious. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come fishing with me tomorrow at the old pond,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Fishing?” I scratched my head. That was it? Seemed like a strange request, but definitely not as bad as I thought it would be. “Uh, okay, I guess. Let me just ask my mom.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’ll wait.”
I jogged back into the trailer, opening the door quietly. Mom was asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling slowly. She’d had a long shift at the gas station the night before, and I didn’t want to wake her. I stood there for a moment, biting my lip.
“She won’t even know,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll be back before she notices.”
Decision made, I tiptoed back outside. “Alright, I’ll go,” I told the old man, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
“Great,” he said, smiling even wider. “We’ll meet tomorrow at dawn. Don’t be late.”
The next morning, the old man picked me up bright and early in his black SUV. We drove in silence at first, heading out of town. The place looked like no one had been there in years, the water was still, with tall grass growing around it. There wasn’t a single person in sight.
“Why here?” I asked, looking around as I grabbed the fishing rods he’d brought.
The old man smiled softly as he set up the gear. “This place… it means a lot to me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
We cast our lines into the water and sat side by side. We didn’t talk much for a while. But after about an hour, with no bites on the line, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So… why did you want to come here to fish?” I asked, curious.
The old man glanced at me, his smile tinged with sadness. “Years ago, I used to come here with my son. He was about your age then.” His voice softened even more.
“We were poor, just like you and your mother. Didn’t have much, but we always found time to come here. Funny thing is, we never caught a single fish, no matter how hard we tried.”
I looked at him. “Where’s your son now?”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the water. I noticed his eyes filled with tears.
“He’s gone,” the old man finally said, his voice heavy. “He got sick. The doctors said he needed an urgent operation, but I didn’t have the money. I couldn’t save him.”
I felt my chest tighten. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, blinking back tears. “That’s when I promised myself I’d never be in that position again. I worked, I hustled, I built myself up so I’d never feel that helpless. But… I never had another child.”
I didn’t know what to say at first, but something inside me knew what he needed to hear. I stood up, walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Your son’s watching you from heaven,” I said softly. “And one day, he’ll see you catch that fish. You just can’t give up.”
He smiled at me, tears still in his eyes. “Thank you, Adam. You remind me so much of him.”
Just then, the float on one of our rods dipped suddenly into the water.
“Hey, the float!” I yelled.
The old man’s eyes widened, and we both grabbed the rod at the same time, pulling hard. But as we yanked, we both lost our balance, tumbling into the pond with a loud splash. I gasped as the cold water hit me, and the old man surfaced beside me, laughing like he hadn’t in years.
“Well, this is one way to catch a fish!” he cackled, struggling to hold onto the rod while I helped pull him up.
We finally managed to drag the rod back to shore, and to our surprise, attached to the end was the biggest fish I’d ever seen. The old man jumped to his feet, soaking wet but grinning like a kid.
“We did it!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph. “We actually caught one!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, watching him dance around like he’d just won the lottery. We were soaked to the bone, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.
Later, he drove me back to the trailer. As we pulled up, he turned to me, his face soft and filled with gratitude.
“Thank you, Adam,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Today meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”
I smiled back. “Thanks for taking me fishing. It was fun.”
He reached out and patted my shoulder, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Take care, son. And don’t give up on those dreams.”
With that, he drove off, leaving me standing there with a strange warmth in my chest.
The next day, there was a knock on our trailer door. I opened it to see a man in a suit standing there, holding a package.
“Adam?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, eyeing the man suspiciously.
“I’m Mr. Johnson, Mr. Thompson’s assistant. He asked me to deliver this to you,” he said, handing over the package.
I opened it right there on the spot and inside was more money than I’d ever seen in my life. My jaw dropped. “W-what is this for?”
Mr. Johnson smiled kindly. “It’s for you and your mother. Enough to move into a proper house, and for her medical care—rehabilitation, so she can walk without pain. There’s also a provision for private tutors to help you prepare for college. Your education, including one of the best colleges in the country, will be fully covered.”
I couldn’t believe it. My head spun as I tried to process what he was saying. “But… why?”
“Mr. Thompson was very moved by you, Adam. He sees a lot of his own son in you. This is his way of saying thank you.”
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded, overwhelmed by the kindness of a man who had once been a stranger but had now changed our lives forever.
Several months passed since that fishing trip. One afternoon, I came home to find a letter on the table, addressed to me. I recognized the handwriting instantly. My hands shook as I opened it.
“If you’re reading this,” the letter began, “then I’m already watching you from heaven with my son.”
I stopped, swallowing hard, and read on.
“The day after we went fishing, I had heart surgery. I didn’t survive, but that’s okay. Meeting you gave me more peace than I ever thought possible. You reminded me of my son and showed me there’s still joy in life, even after loss.
I’ve left you everything you need to succeed. Remember what you told me that day by the pond? You’ll catch that fish too—just don’t give up, right?”
I wiped a tear from my cheek, staring at the words. I could almost hear his voice again, and see him smiling next to me by the water.
Fifteen years later, I stood on the porch of the house I built for Mom, watching her laugh with my kids in the yard.
“You never gave up, Adam,” she said, catching my eye with a smile. “He’d be proud.”
“I think about him a lot,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I hope I’ve made him proud.”
“You have,” she said gently. “He gave you everything, and look at you now.”
I smiled, glancing at my own home next door. “It wasn’t just the money, Mom. It was the reminder to never give up. I’ll carry that with me forever.”
She squeezed my hand. “And he’s watching. I know it.”
Straight Family Man Prefers To Wear Skirts And Heels As He Believes ‘Clothes Have No Gender’
Mark Bryan is a robotics engineer who has been married for 11 years and has a daughter. He identifies as straight and chooses to dress unconventionally. Bryan is an American living in Germany, and he doesn’t believe that fashion has to be gendered. You can find Bryan wearing a skirt and heels to work or out anywhere else he goes on any given day.
Bryan said he doesn’t like how limited men’s choices are in the fashion department, especially when it comes to office attire. Men’s pants only come in a few colors, mostly black, gray, dark blue and the occasional pinstripe, and cuts.
The stylish dresser believes that if women are allowed to wear pants, men should be able to wear skirts and dresses as well. Bryan likes how skirts come in many styles and patterns – and many more colors – unlike men’s clothing.
Bryan prefers to mix traditional gender looks by wearing masculine attire on his top half, like a blazer and tie, and traditionally feminine attire on the bottom half. He will typically wear a pencil skirt and four-inch heels on the bottom.
Wearing high heels is no problem for Bryan. He first learned how to do it when his college girlfriend asked him to wear high heels while dancing with her so that they were on the same level. They continued this for over a year.
Bryan doesn’t let stereotypes or assumptions stop him from dressing in a way that brings him joy. He challenges expectations and does so unapologetically. Keep reading to hear what Bryan has to say about his fashion choices.
Bryan has a very clear idea about how he likes to dress. He told Bored Panda: “To me, clothes have no gender. I prefer skirts to dresses. Dresses don’t allow me to mix the genders. I prefer a ‘masculine’ look above the waist and a non-gendered look below the waist. It’s all about clothes having no gender.”
He continued: “I am old enough to remember that in school, the girls could not wear pants. Pants have now become a non-gendered article of clothing. So why can’t skirts and heels be non-gendered? Besides, men wore heels before women did. Maybe not today’s stiletto-style heels, but men did wear heels before women.”
Bryan is correct about that. High heels can look back on a long history. Although historians and archaeologists cannot date their invention clearly, they have been around at least since the 10th century. And they were not a fashion statement at first. No, the first recorded use of high heels was eminently practical: the Persian cavalry wore boots with heels, called a kalash or galesh, that made it easier for them to keep their feet inside their stirrups. This is, by the way, the same reason why cowboy boots have a small heel as well!
Since owning a horse was a sign of wealth, only well-off men could afford to wear these high-heeled boots. The use of them slowly spread across Europe, and high heels heels became one of the fashion signs of rich noblemen or traders. In fact, following the Great Schism of the Christian Church in the 11th century, even the pope wore high heels.
It wasn’t until several hundred years later that fashion slowly changed. During the 18th century, cultural concerns in Europe came up about the distinction between males and females and talk about what men and women should wear arose. This is the point in time where the belief that fashion is something effeminate and frivolous that “real men” shouldn’t care about hails from. Due to these changing beliefs, men largely abandoned high heels heels, as they were seen as impractical and mere accessories.
Bryan is one of the examples of how high-heels are slowly coming back as an accepted form of footwear for men. Although the engineer champions the option of wearing high-heeled shoes for men, he understands many people will look twice when they see him. He compares his style choices to someone who chooses to dye their hair bright colors. He explained:
“Take a person with bright green hair. Green hair is not normal. You look up and see this person, your mind tells you it’s a person with green hair, you think to yourself, that’s odd or interesting, then you go back to do what you were doing and don’t give it another thought. I believe this is the same when people see me in a skirt and heels.”
Bryan doesn’t have to struggle to find skirts and heels that fit him either. He wears a size 8 in skirts, and with smaller feet for a man, his shoe size in heels is 8.5. If you know a man who is considering trying out wearing heels and skirts too, Bryan suggests starting with a lower heel until you feel more comfortable walking in high heels.
What do you think of Mark Bryan’s style choices? Do you know any men who would try walking in high heels? Let us know, and be sure to send this along to your friends and family.
Leave a Reply