When it is time for salmon to spawn they leave the ocean and come back to the inland rivers and streams where they were born. I was raised on a 40 acre farm intersected by the East Hoquiam River, and the image on this card was a yearly occurrence. Grandpa called them sorebacks because they were no longer the gleaming silver-grey but pinkish red.
I'm reminded by this card of Grandpa Woods. He worked as a migrant laborer most of his life; my dad was born in a shack on an Oklahoma oil field. With thirteen kids to feed I expect each day's dawning filled grandpa's mind with "where will I find enough food for my family today?". One place was sorebacks that no one else would eat. I can only imagine that life yet today much of the world is still hand to mouth. How can that be in a world with time and money to burn?
"When I gave food to the poor, they called me a saint. When I asked why the poor were hungry, they called me a communist." ~ Dom Helder Camara 1909-1999
The cards open previously closed doors to my own heart with their merciless quest for the truth, nothing but the truth. They flay the soul and make me say thank you afterward. Each hour spent with my cards is a new lesson to be learned. Viva la Journey.