Speaker 1: Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Rieves
Speaker 1: from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
Speaker 1: I want you to stay a while as I share
Speaker 1: my stories and the country skills that will help you
Speaker 1: beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as
Speaker 1: part of Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best
Speaker 1: outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends,
Speaker 1: pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I
Speaker 1: think I got a thing or two. The teacher, the
Speaker 1: power of hello. I've said it before and I'll say
Speaker 1: it again. Sharing the burden of a problem with a
Speaker 1: friend lightens your load, just like sharing a joy magnifies it.
Speaker 1: Friends can come from the most unexpected places and the
Speaker 1: best ones. Man, sometimes they seem like to be honest
Speaker 1: to goodness divine intervention. This week, I want to talk
Speaker 1: to you about some friends I've made just stumbling through
Speaker 1: life out amongst nature, looking for something to catch and eat,
Speaker 1: or just by being neighborly and just saying hello. It
Speaker 1: can literally open doors. And the story I'm fixing to
Speaker 1: tell you is a prime example. Sixty five years ago,
Speaker 1: my aunt Norma Fay married a fellow by the name
Speaker 1: of Tully McCoy. Uncle Tully was born in nineteen thirty
Speaker 1: four and grew up in Pike County, Kentucky, which is
Speaker 1: located on the Kentucky and West Virginia state line, separated
Speaker 1: only by the Tug Fork of the Big Sandy River.
Speaker 1: Does any of that sound familiar? Well? It or too.
Speaker 1: That's where all the feuding took place between them and
Speaker 1: the hat Fields. Uncle Tully's father, Jim McCoy, was nine
Speaker 1: years old when that feud ended. He remembered it well,
Speaker 1: but Uncle Tully said he never talked about it. I'm
Speaker 1: happy to say that I talked to my uncle Tully
Speaker 1: this morning. I was getting the details about one of
Speaker 1: my favorite stories I've ever heard him tell, and it
Speaker 1: all started with a hello. In late fifties, Uncle Tully
Speaker 1: found himself married to my aunt Norma and living in
Speaker 1: a little rock selling insurance door to door. Now, folks
Speaker 1: didn't make any appointments back then. They just drive up,
Speaker 1: knock on the door, and make their sales pitch. On
Speaker 1: this day, he was outside of town visiting with folks
Speaker 1: in the rural areas and drove up to a house
Speaker 1: that had no car in the driveway, but he could
Speaker 1: tell that the front door was open and only the
Speaker 1: screen door was closed. Now, that wasn't uncommon back in
Speaker 1: that time for a family to have only one vehicle.
Speaker 1: Not seeing a car and that the house didn't necessarily
Speaker 1: mean that there wasn't anybody at home. It probably meant
Speaker 1: that the man of the house was gone to work
Speaker 1: and his wife was there taking care of the home.
Speaker 1: On the door and said hello and heard nothing. He
Speaker 1: tried again, Hello. He heard a voice in the back
Speaker 1: of the house say hello. Uncle Tody said hello. The
Speaker 1: voice answered him, come in, So he opened the screen
Speaker 1: door and stepped inside the living room. He said, my
Speaker 1: name's Telling McCoy and the voice said hello, but no
Speaker 1: one came out to meet him. He said he was
Speaker 1: just standing in the living room looking around for the
Speaker 1: person that kept talking to him. So he said, what's
Speaker 1: your name, and the voice answered back, Jim Hardy. Jim Hardy,
Speaker 1: Jim Hardy. My uncle said he didn't know what was
Speaker 1: going on, but something just didn't seem right. He said,
Speaker 1: I'm telling McCoy and I'm selling insurance. Would you be
Speaker 1: interested in he said Immediately the voice cut him off, saying,
Speaker 1: Jim Hardy four o'clock, Jim Hardy, four o'clock. My uncle
Speaker 1: said he looked at his watch and thought, well, it
Speaker 1: ain't nowhere near four o'clock. Then he heard a car
Speaker 1: pulling up outside and watched from inside the house as
Speaker 1: the family that obviously lived there got out of their
Speaker 1: car and started walking up on the porch and inside
Speaker 1: the house, just just looking at him. My uncle said
Speaker 1: he didn't know what to do, but he knew he
Speaker 1: was standing in some place he ought not to have,
Speaker 1: and regardless of what Jim Hardy was saying, he wasn't
Speaker 1: supposed to be there. As the man of the house
Speaker 1: walked in, my uncle said he couldn't explain fast enough
Speaker 1: how he came to be standing in that man's living room.
Speaker 1: When that fellow started laughing and said, someone told you
Speaker 1: to come in, didn't they. My uncle said, yes, sir
Speaker 1: Jim Hardy, but he won't come out where I can
Speaker 1: see him. The man was doubling over and laughing and
Speaker 1: grabbed my uncle by the arm and walked him into
Speaker 1: another room where a big parrot was in a cage, saying,
Speaker 1: Jim Hardy, four o'clock, Jim Hardy, four o'clock, Jim Hardy
Speaker 1: was a character on a Cowboy TV show called Tales
Speaker 1: of Wells Fargo that ran from nineteen fifty seven to
Speaker 1: nineteen sixty two, and you guessed it, it came on
Speaker 1: at four o'clock. Now, the end of this story would
Speaker 1: have been a whole lot better if I could have said,
Speaker 1: and the man bought a whole bunch of insurance. But
Speaker 1: he didn't. But if the parrot hadn't said hello, my
Speaker 1: uncle would have never had the opportunity to make his pitch.
Speaker 1: All that we could ask for are the opportunities, and
Speaker 1: the parrot gave him one. The rest, well, that's all
Speaker 1: up to us, and that's just how that happened, all right.
Speaker 1: I was talking to my brother this morning and I
Speaker 1: told him about what I was going to be talking
Speaker 1: about this week, and told him, you know how we
Speaker 1: used to know all our neighbors in just about every direction.
Speaker 1: Now that really didn't encompass a whole lot of folks,
Speaker 1: Because if you drew a mile circle from the house
Speaker 1: on the farm that we growed up on, you wouldn't
Speaker 1: have had enough folks to fill the football team. But
Speaker 1: we knew them all. You draw that circle half a
Speaker 1: mile from where I live now, and you'd have close
Speaker 1: to as many folks that were in the town where
Speaker 1: I went to school. We've lived in this house in
Speaker 1: this neighborhood for twelve years, and in that time I've
Speaker 1: known four different families, three of which represent folks that
Speaker 1: bought and sold the same house. I know there's been
Speaker 1: folks who've lived and died within my immediate area that
Speaker 1: I ain't never met, and I'm ashamed to admit that
Speaker 1: how many good folks have I missed making friends with
Speaker 1: by not making an effort. There's a man that walks
Speaker 1: daily in our neighborhood, getting his exercise and told in
Speaker 1: a sack to pick up trash. I've seen him in
Speaker 1: the folks yards, snatching up to every President, wal Mart,
Speaker 1: and daughter of General. Bags that travel around the landscape
Speaker 1: like red neck tumbleweeds. I happened to be outside one
Speaker 1: day and he came walking by and I spoke to him.
Speaker 1: After years of just giving him a friendly smile or
Speaker 1: a nod as he walked by, he stopped and we
Speaker 1: visited for an hour about everything you could imagine. And
Speaker 1: when he left, he was tolting some fro and bear
Speaker 1: steaks and a jar bear grease. A week or so later,
Speaker 1: he dropped off some homemade bread and some Greek to
Speaker 1: zeki sauce he learned how to make when he was
Speaker 1: stationed in Greece in the Air Force. Good Night, nurse,
Speaker 1: it was good. All of that was made possible by
Speaker 1: just saying hello. Those two syllables with the correct voice
Speaker 1: inflection are just like a master key that could unlock
Speaker 1: a whole new world of possibilities. In this world that's
Speaker 1: dominated by social media, flooded with some of the most
Speaker 1: anti social behavior, I think it's time we redirected some
Speaker 1: effort into socializing face to face instead of keyboard to keyboard.
Speaker 1: There are a few detractors to in person conversations. One
Speaker 1: I can think of is the type of person you
Speaker 1: ask what time it is and they proceed to give
Speaker 1: you the history on how the watch was made. Then
Speaker 1: you've got the type that has to get right up
Speaker 1: on you when they're telling you a story and their
Speaker 1: breath is kicking your old factories. Like Bruce Lee with
Speaker 1: his legs set on autopilot. Those folks, they're good for
Speaker 1: a text, y'all. Don't get me wrong now, I'm not
Speaker 1: kicking social media down the road because I use it
Speaker 1: in my job. I've also met people through social media
Speaker 1: that have become like family, and if it hadn't been
Speaker 1: for it, our pass might not have ever crossed. Who knows.
Speaker 1: I can say for certain that those relationships one hundred
Speaker 1: percent did happen because of social media. We just need
Speaker 1: to balance it more. And really my idea of a
Speaker 1: correct balance would be heavy on the social and less
Speaker 1: on the media. I'd rather talk to someone a text them.
Speaker 1: A text thread is like a baseball game. It's got
Speaker 1: no time limit and could theoretically go on forever. A
Speaker 1: phone call that's just one audios my friend from being over.
Speaker 1: And I keep going back to the old school social
Speaker 1: media men holding court and cafes and feed stores over
Speaker 1: cups of coffee. The same thing was the fashion when
Speaker 1: I'd had to go with my grandma to the beauty
Speaker 1: parlor and sit and listen to them jawing about all
Speaker 1: the old men that were at the cafe. In the
Speaker 1: feed stores, they were talking about all the old ladies
Speaker 1: at the beauty parlor. The family and friend gatherings are irreplaceable.
Speaker 1: Folks were more respectful to one another back in the
Speaker 1: day when saying something ugly in arms reach if somebody
Speaker 1: can make your nose bleed, and they may not have
Speaker 1: respected you, but at least they were a little more careful. Now,
Speaker 1: I'm as bad as anybody. These days, you see more
Speaker 1: than one person sitting together, and nine times out of
Speaker 1: ten they're all staring at their phone. My wife and
Speaker 1: I sit in the living room watching TV and our phones,
Speaker 1: sending funny things back and forth and never say in
Speaker 1: the world, how in the world did we get here?
Speaker 1: And where are we going? It's a double edged sword,
Speaker 1: but it's more than probable that I wouldn't be here
Speaker 1: now talking to you if it were for social media.
Speaker 1: I saw a post on the Hunting for Them about
Speaker 1: a guy I had never heard of auctioning off hunts
Speaker 1: in Arkansas to promote an organization that I now ever
Speaker 1: heard of, and hunting an animal in Arkansas I had
Speaker 1: never seen in the wild. That was my old buddy
Speaker 1: Clay and his Arkansas Black Bear Association. I contacted him,
Speaker 1: thinking it would be a good promotion for his cause
Speaker 1: and good experience for me, being a new outdoor videographer
Speaker 1: and who wouldn't want to see a bear in the woods.
Speaker 1: After talking on the phone, a couple of times. It
Speaker 1: only took him a year to take de bait. Our
Speaker 1: first hunt together was in the sweltering heat wave in
Speaker 1: southeast Oklahoma. We became friends, and now he's like my
Speaker 1: little sister. I'm just kidding, he's like my big sister.
Speaker 1: Stop it, Brent. Really, he and his whole family are
Speaker 1: my family. Not only me, but my family too. Now
Speaker 1: I know that ain't some kind of anomaly. That's how
Speaker 1: folks become friends. They meet, enjoy each other's coming, and
Speaker 1: decide to keep spending time together. It's just the medium
Speaker 1: of how those encounters initiate. It's different these days. I've
Speaker 1: got numerous friends that I've met through hunting and fishing,
Speaker 1: which I think is the base for any relation ship.
Speaker 1: You have to share a common interest, and once that's established,
Speaker 1: then you learn how that person sees the comedy denominator
Speaker 1: that brought you together. If you're willing to see their
Speaker 1: version of your interest, you might learn that their perspective
Speaker 1: is better than yours. You just never know because of
Speaker 1: that initial contact of an offer to help and seeking
Speaker 1: help in return. From back in twenty twelve, Let's fast
Speaker 1: forward an incredible journey filled with focused hard work, determination
Speaker 1: and adventure. To April of twenty twenty three, Clayton Newclem
Speaker 1: and I were sitting in Bozman, Montowna, in the Meat
Speaker 1: Eater studio fixing to record a podcast with Steve Vanella
Speaker 1: and all the other hosts of all the Meat Eater podcasts.
Speaker 1: It was a pretty surreal moment, and I looked at
Speaker 1: my friends sitting across the table from me, and I said,
Speaker 1: this is a long way from that old bear bait
Speaker 1: in Oklahoma. Ain't at Claybowm, but it sure was. Last
Speaker 1: thing I want to tell you truly demonstrates the power
Speaker 1: of a chance meeting. And it happened six years ago.
Speaker 1: I made the decision, after fifty one trips around the Sun,
Speaker 1: that I was a fly fisherman. It was as conscious
Speaker 1: a decision as I've ever made. Growing up on a
Speaker 1: farm in South Arkansas and catching a trout on a
Speaker 1: fly rod with a hand tied fly seemed foreign and
Speaker 1: far away. I was intrigued, and that fire smoldered for years.
Speaker 1: Outdoor magazines and books were my obsession, and from big
Speaker 1: game hunting in North America and Africa to fly fishing
Speaker 1: out West, I dreamt of one day doing these things
Speaker 1: that I only read about now at fifty one, and
Speaker 1: not knowing a soul that flyfished. I was going to
Speaker 1: make that a reality. I just didn't know how now.
Speaker 1: I fished with a fly rod in my whole life.
Speaker 1: The basic concept of how to use one was taught
Speaker 1: to me at an early It was my father's weapon
Speaker 1: of choice for catching brim where we lived, and he
Speaker 1: could roll cast a hook cricket into the narest of
Speaker 1: spots between cypress knees and limbs and pull out a
Speaker 1: bluegill after bluegill. He was a dang Jedi with a
Speaker 1: fly rod, and I tried to be just like him.
Speaker 1: Bluegill were one thing, but catching a trout with a
Speaker 1: fly rod, man, that was a whole of the creature.
Speaker 1: My occupation kept me in the southern half of Arkansas
Speaker 1: until I excepted the position in Little Rock and made
Speaker 1: my home. A few miles away and nearly halfway across
Speaker 1: the state from where I grew up, less than an
Speaker 1: hour north was the Little Red River. It's a tail
Speaker 1: water stream out of Grier's Ferry Lake where the Fish
Speaker 1: and Wildlife Service have managed a trout hatchery beginning coincidentally
Speaker 1: in nineteen sixty six, the same year I saw the
Speaker 1: light of day. Here they raise and released rainbow and
Speaker 1: book trout into public waters to be enjoyed by everyone,
Speaker 1: and a resource with boundless opportunities of which I had
Speaker 1: never taken advantage of. That was fixing the change. One day,
Speaker 1: like a bolt of lightning from a cloudless sky, I
Speaker 1: announced to Alexis that, unbeknownst to her, she'd married a
Speaker 1: fly fisherman, and that he'd been trapped inside my body
Speaker 1: this whole time. I don't remember her looking surprised, or
Speaker 1: even looking up from what she was doing, but I
Speaker 1: do remember her calmly asking if you got enough room
Speaker 1: for him with all those other idiots in there. I
Speaker 1: just let that go. I was mission focused and operating
Speaker 1: at full speed. I knew not one soul the flyfish
Speaker 1: for trout, So I did what we all do when
Speaker 1: we want to know something and don't have anyone to ask.
Speaker 1: I got on the internet how to fish for trout
Speaker 1: with a fly rod? Got me sixteen million, eight hundred
Speaker 1: thousand answers in less than half a second. I don't
Speaker 1: know that I didn't watch them all. I spent hours
Speaker 1: and hours watching him. I ordered books. I bent the
Speaker 1: ears of men who worked at a local fly shop
Speaker 1: Little Rock, trying to absorb everything I could to do
Speaker 1: it by myself, all before I ever left my house
Speaker 1: to go fishing. A week into my new found purpose
Speaker 1: in life, I bought a new fly rod, a few flies,
Speaker 1: and some wagers. I had a fly rod at home,
Speaker 1: but that one I'd bought many years ago, and the
Speaker 1: last person I'd used it with was the man that
Speaker 1: had taught me to fish in the first place, and
Speaker 1: now he was gone and had been for quite a
Speaker 1: few years. It had hung there in the garage, beside
Speaker 1: the last one he owned, and it was a reminder
Speaker 1: of a million memories with him. Man, it was hard.
Speaker 1: It was just hard to fish with That one. Made
Speaker 1: me miss my dad to the point that I didn't
Speaker 1: even brim fish for quite a while after he died.
Speaker 1: The next day I planned to drive the Little Rock
Speaker 1: with a new one, tie on a fly that the
Speaker 1: fly shop man had sold me, and bring this all
Speaker 1: full circle. New rod, new hobby, old dream. How hard
Speaker 1: could it be? There was one vehicle in the parking
Speaker 1: lot when I got there. No crowds meant less pressure
Speaker 1: on the fish and less likely i'd be pulling someone's
Speaker 1: ear off while I beat the air into submission with
Speaker 1: my new fly rod. There was one guy standing beside
Speaker 1: a small point fishing in a narrow part of the
Speaker 1: river below the dam. I wasn't sure of the proper
Speaker 1: etiquette when approaching a fisherman stand in midstream, so I
Speaker 1: quickly calculated the amount of fly line he had stretched
Speaker 1: out before him and tried to add a little cushions
Speaker 1: to that distance behind him, and I walked past him downstream.
Speaker 1: After all, I didn't want him tearing one of my
Speaker 1: ears off either. He never turned around, and I waded
Speaker 1: out into the Little Red River for the first time,
Speaker 1: sixty or more yards below him, and washed him catch
Speaker 1: a fish. WHOA fly fishing is easy, It's gonna be fun.
Speaker 1: My first cast landed somewhere in the vicinity where I
Speaker 1: was aiming, but most importantly, that fly was in the
Speaker 1: river and I was fishing the current pool. My line
Speaker 1: down streamed every so slowly, switching it back and forth
Speaker 1: as the different floes pulled and pushed my fly through
Speaker 1: that cold water. A fish rose up river to feed
Speaker 1: on a bug, and I saw that guy catch another fish.
Speaker 1: Man I was excited. The fish were biting, and this
Speaker 1: other guy and I were the only two folks around
Speaker 1: my day advanced like this cast watched the line float by,
Speaker 1: waiting for a bite. See that guy catch a fish,
Speaker 1: Change flies, See that guy catch a fish. Cast again
Speaker 1: with no results, And this went on for an hour.
Speaker 1: After a while, he said, hey, won't you come up
Speaker 1: here with me. There's room up here, and they're stacked
Speaker 1: in here. Pretty good. He caught another fish while he
Speaker 1: was telling me that. Well, going back to my raising
Speaker 1: of not wanting to be a bother, I said, man,
Speaker 1: I'm good. Thanks. Though, Now not only did this dude
Speaker 1: catch fish like an otter, he was also a gentleman.
Speaker 1: I hated him immediately. I made cast after cast without
Speaker 1: a bite, all the while that guy seemed to catch
Speaker 1: one every other cast or so. I changed flies. He
Speaker 1: caught a fish while I manufactured not in my line,
Speaker 1: false casting like I was in a sword fight with
Speaker 1: invisible man. That joker caught a fish. I dropped my
Speaker 1: sunglasses in the river. I watched them sink like a
Speaker 1: fallen leaf, just out of reaching into the frigid depths
Speaker 1: of the water. He caught a fish. Oh yeah, fly fishing. Oh,
Speaker 1: it's easy catching fish while fly fishing. That was something
Speaker 1: of a different sword, at least for me. I needed
Speaker 1: my dad to tell me how to do this, and
Speaker 1: even if I could have talked to him, he never
Speaker 1: fly fished either. Mercifully. The warning blew with the dam,
Speaker 1: and that means they're fixing it, turn some water loose,
Speaker 1: and we had to get off the river and to
Speaker 1: higher ground quick and in a hurry. The river can
Speaker 1: go from waist deep and hardly any current at all
Speaker 1: to ten feet and running faster than grass goes through
Speaker 1: a goose in short order. But I just went on
Speaker 1: my first fly fishing trip. And while I had my
Speaker 1: hat and had it to me by the trout gods
Speaker 1: and that guy fishing upstream giving me lessons, I was
Speaker 1: still inspired to do it. I thought about it a
Speaker 1: lot that first few hours. I stood in that cold water,
Speaker 1: watching drift after drifting the same with no fish, not
Speaker 1: even a bite, but with no thoughts of disappointment, anger,
Speaker 1: or really even discouragement. I wanted to learn how to
Speaker 1: do what I'd watched that guy above me do all afternoon,
Speaker 1: and when I looked up, he was standing on the
Speaker 1: bank near the trail leading back to the parking lot,
Speaker 1: waiting on me as a guy closer, I could see
Speaker 1: this guy was a fly fisherman, not that I needed
Speaker 1: to get any closer to see that, because I spent
Speaker 1: the better part of the day watching him demonstrate that
Speaker 1: while trying not to let him catch me looking. But
Speaker 1: he knew, though, he knew, like every home run here
Speaker 1: that ever live knows that when you're in the zone
Speaker 1: and smashing fastballs to the parking lot, everybody's watching. It
Speaker 1: wasn't the crack of a bat that kept me looking
Speaker 1: up ever that day. It was the of his flylne
Speaker 1: being pulled up out of the water tight as a
Speaker 1: fiddle string, over and over with a trout on the
Speaker 1: other end. I tell you that cat was purpose driven
Speaker 1: to catch every trout within his loop, and I'd argue
Speaker 1: that if he didn't. A joker came offully close. When
Speaker 1: I got up to him, he stuck out his hand
Speaker 1: and he said, howdie, my name's Terry. I shook his
Speaker 1: hand and fought the urge to salute him, and raised
Speaker 1: his arm like he just won the fly fishing championship
Speaker 1: of the civilized world. So I did what I always
Speaker 1: do I said something stupid. Hi, Terry, my name's Brent,
Speaker 1: and you're a lot prettier than I thought you were.
Speaker 1: Terry and I talked for thirty minutes, just like we
Speaker 1: were old friends. I didn't have to tell him that
Speaker 1: I didn't know what I was doing, but to make
Speaker 1: sure he knew, I said, Terry, I don't know what
Speaker 1: I'm doing. I just know I want to do it.
Speaker 1: And then he asked me, can you come back tomorrow?
Speaker 1: That was twenty and seventeen. He taught me more than
Speaker 1: I could have ever learned on my own. How to
Speaker 1: read the water, how to match the hatch, how to
Speaker 1: tie flies, window fish, where to fish, patience, persistence, and
Speaker 1: above all bed a good steward and a protector of
Speaker 1: the resource, the same lessons I'd have been taught before
Speaker 1: when I was a little boy, by a man that
Speaker 1: i'd watched catch fish after fish, just like I'd watched
Speaker 1: Terry do. The first day we met, a couple of
Speaker 1: years ago, my wife and I were on our way
Speaker 1: back from Texas, and after a long period of silence
Speaker 1: and just riding, I began to tell her how random
Speaker 1: I thought it was that Terry and I had met
Speaker 1: that day. Now, I could have gone anywhere. I had
Speaker 1: never been fly fishing before, and there were closer places
Speaker 1: to my house, and miles and miles of trout water
Speaker 1: in Arkansas on different rivers. But I went there to
Speaker 1: that spot where he was, and it was just the
Speaker 1: two of us. After a minute or two, she looked
Speaker 1: at me and said, you don't see it. Do you
Speaker 1: see what the connection with you and Terry? It's your dad.
Speaker 1: It's got nothing to do with fly fishing, Bran, and
Speaker 1: all to do with him helping you. He wasn't teaching
Speaker 1: you how to fish. He was teaching you how to
Speaker 1: miss your dad and be happy by doing something that
Speaker 1: all three of you love to do, catch fish with
Speaker 1: a fly rod. And there it was, staring me right
Speaker 1: in the face. I believe in my heart that my
Speaker 1: journey to that spot on the Little Red River started
Speaker 1: the day my father left this earth. And I got
Speaker 1: there exactly what I was supposed to, and it all
Speaker 1: started with Terry Garner's hello. Oh yeah, he ain't from Arkansas.
Speaker 1: He just happened to be there fishing that day. She's
Speaker 1: a smart gal, that galimane. There's power and sometimes opportunity
Speaker 1: in saying hello. Whether it's from a random fly fisherman
Speaker 1: or even a fair heart. I really enjoyed this week's visit.
Speaker 1: You can find me on the old Instagram at Brent
Speaker 1: Underscore Reeves. Remember Reeves is correctly spelled R E A
Speaker 1: v ees. This is Brent Reeves. Sign it off, y'all
Speaker 1: be careful.