Beyond the Quarry: Labors of Love

A Brotherhood Runs Through It

by PJ Roup, 33˚, Editor, Active for Pennsylvania

I MET Brothers Teddy Sizemore, 33°, and Mark Nord, 33°, in the fall of 2006. The three of us had been appointed as District Deputy Grand Masters and were attending our training session. We were all in our 30s (those were the days) and considerably younger than the other new District Deputies, so we “Young Guns,” as the Grand Master called us, became fast friends.

It didn’t take us long to realize that we had more in common than just our youth. We were all golfers, and all three of us loved the outdoors in general, and flyfishing in particular. In the early days of our friendship, we managed to golf together quite a few times despite our geographical dispersion across Pennsylvania. During those outings, we talked about how we ought to schedule a flyfishing weekend, but it took us a few years until our hectic schedules allowed it to become a reality.

Our first several trips were to Poe Paddy State Park which is nestled in the Allegheny Mountains east of State College, Pennsylvania. The campground at Poe Paddy sits on the bank of Penns Creek, a destination known to fly fishermen all over for its legendary Green Drake hatch. Mark always planned far enough in advance to coordinate our trip to coincide with the hatch which typically takes place in late May.

We knew that the best way to be better men was to surround ourselves with better men.

Some years, the fishing (and the weather) was better than others, but around the evening fire, we always had the chance to tell lies about the day’s fish and catch up with each other’s lives—the joys and sorrows, the struggles and the triumphs— while we sipped whiskey. These were weekends that, despite the cold, the rain, or the rocks that poked you through the bottom of the tent as you tried (usually unsuccessfully) to sleep, left you energized, refreshed, and alive.

Sadly, as can so often happen, the demands of life put a temporary halt to our annual outings—until the pandemic forced all outside again. I hadn’t wet a line in several years, but standing in the middle of a stream far from other humans was one of the few things that we were allowed to do in 2020 that was deemed safe. I dusted off my waders and reacquainted myself with the joys and frustrations of flyfishing for trout.

I sent a few pictures of my first outing to Ted who called me almost immediately. “You know what,” he said, “We need get the band back together.”

“That’s a great idea,” I replied.

“I’ll call Mark and see if we can make it happen. Let’s stay at my new place,” he said.

Ted’s new place was MVL, a 231-acre private hunting and fishing lodge he owns with his wife, Jennifer, nestled into a horseshoe curve in the west branch of the Susquehanna River. We had to look deep into our calendars to find a time that worked for all three of us, but finally, last October, the band got back together. Using the lodge as base camp, we booked a guide and two days of fishing—one on Spring Creek and one on the legendary Spruce Creek. Both streams are fed by limestone springs, giving them two advantages for holding trophy trout: steady temperatures year-round and an abundant food supply.

Spruce Creek attracts anglers from around the world and was a favorite of Presidents Eisenhower and Carter. It’s no wonder that the three of us were nearly breathless with anticipation as we walked toward its banks still blanketed by a morning mist. Our guide, Eric Norman of Making Memories Fly Fishing, suggested that we begin fishing one at a time. Mark drew the honors and had the first fish on within minutes of hitting the water. It was a portent of things to come. We netted just north of twenty fish—all brag-worthy—between us in the four hours we spent on the water that day including a personal best brown trout for me measuring nearly 22 inches (and that is not a "fish story”). Of the three of us, Ted is the most experienced flyfisherman. I cannot prove it, but I believe his baby shoes were actually waders. We all caught fish that day, and though each of us is fiercely competitive, we rejoiced in each other’s success—delighting in the childlike joy on the face of our Brother as he brought a trout to the shore.

PJ, Mark, and Ted pose with Mark’s Spring Creek brown.

We returned to the lodge, ate deer tenderloin harvested right there on the grounds, and relived the excitement of the day. We went to bed tired but invigorated and full of excitement and hope for the next day’s adventure.

Spring Creek is a slightly larger creek than Spruce and is a catch and release fishery for its entire 16 mile run through Centre County, PA. Because of its larger size, we were able to fish at the same time. We chose our spots and waded in. I caught a respectable brown trout on my first cast, and that set the tone for the day. We fished non-stop, working our way along nearly half a mile of stream, searching for—and finding—the monster trout hiding in the riffles and runs.

When our stomachs told us it was time to take a break, we sat on the bank eating sandwiches and watching the trout rise to pluck caddis flies from the surface. Ted began to talk about the day we first met. “We were so young. It seems like a lifetime ago,” he said. His face told me he was recalling the day in his head.

“You know, I never would have met you knuckleheads if it wasn’t for Freemasonry,” Mark noted with a smirk.

The author brings a trophy rainbow to net.

The conversation continued. It was true. We had different professions. Mark was a nursing home administrator, Ted worked in IT for a government contractor, and I owned a video production company. Our paths never would have crossed occupationally. And we lived in different parts of the state, so a chance meeting of the three of us would have been next to impossible. What we had in common was a deep and abiding love for the Craft. We all understood the tenets of Freemasonry and recognized that flame in each other. We knew that the best way to be better men was to surround ourselves with better men.

We realized that over the last 15 years we had rejoiced with each other, encouraged each other when we were struggling, and lifted each other up. We celebrated triumphs and consoled in loss. It became clear to us as we packed up our rods that October day that despite the miles or time that has insinuated itself between us, we will always be the best of friends.

Ted proudly displays a Spruce Creek rainbow.

The search for trout may be why we get together, but Freemasonry is the thread—as invisible to us as the leader at the end of our fly line is to the trout—binding us together as Brothers.

Beyond the Quarry: Labors of Love is a new recurring column that will feature Masons outside of the Lodge. Do you have an interesting hobby, event, or recreational activity that you would like to share with us? If so, contact editor@srnmj.org and let us know about it. You just might find yourself featured in a coming issue.