The ways of the lost

This Story revolves around an island off the coast of Maine, a fishing town with two distinct classes: the business people and the working fishermen.

A six-year-old boy and his grandfather lived there; his parents were part of the upper class. The grandfather had fifty years of experience catching, selling, and ocean boating.

A few times a week, the grandson would run by his shop down the hill from his school to see what he was up to. Usually, it would be hearing of his great catch or the challenging waters he would navigate.

As years passed, the boy often showed his grandfather that his parents gave him the newest gadgets, phones, tablets, and tech. He would listen with a smirk and an all-too-familiar twinkle in his eye, eager to hear what his grandson was excited about.

The grandfather was known for his craftiness and stubborn ways of doing things his way. He would stay busy with upkeep and ensure his customers felt greeted and welcome.

With a sign of gentleness, he noted where they were visiting from on an old, wrapped-up map he kept. He liked seeing who he was helping in the surrounding towns and villages.

The child’s parents and friends would visit, exchanging stories of their success and the modern world’s impact on society, environmental well-being, and the community’s achievements. They often urged him to update his fishing tactics to the new way of life.

The little fishing village soon took small steps towards modernization, where people no longer needed to work hard to meet supply and demand. Rather than working with your hands, modernization soon came with significant shipments being rerouted and the latest communication lines being installed.

Where did this leave the grandfather? Well, it just so happened that his tools of the trade had been passed down from his father and his father before him, so much so that different entrepreneurs tried to buy him out or show him new business methods—robotic machines, inventory management strategies, new environmental ways to sell—but with a smile, the grandfather declined, sometimes quite stubbornly. He seemed to prefer the small business approach of earning an honest living.

As his grandson grew up, now a teenager, he continued to stop by and listen to his grandfather’s stories of the sea. Despite all the new excitement in town, he still loved hearing his grandfather talk.

News of an impending hurricane approached, and everyone was encouraged to take shelter. Everyone hid and boarded up shops, but this one particular afternoon, the boy was trying to close shop with his grandfather when the rain started pouring. Within minutes, it seemed like a total downpour, and roads began to wash out. The boy tried to reach his folks, looked at the radar, and finally phoned for help, but the cell phone towers had taken a blow, and the power soon cut out.

The only road connecting the hill to his grandfather’s fishing shack washed out, and it seemed hopeless to try to navigate through the storm’s high winds, which damaged even the strongest embankments. Even after the storm quieted down, the landscape had changed, no longer recognizable that lined this small coastal town.

Grandfather didn’t give up. His wit, determination, and years of experience came to the fore as he rummaged through wet suitcases he had been holding onto for years.

One of the first things he unpacked, tucked deep into a corner and protected by dry corn husks, were old maps—weathered but still legible. Small but still visible markings of who he called his friends who kept returning for his business were noted.

Together, they traced possible routes, marking them on the map to guide anyone trapped.

Soon, they had several new members to their small team.

Finally reaching higher ground, they delivered those rescued safely, and the grandfather had that twinkle in his eye that foretold what he was about to say.

He said, “I held onto the old ways for reasons no one understood, and with the Good Lord’s help, I could lend a hand. You can give me all the new ways of thinking, but you can’t give me the ways of the lost.”