I.F.S has passed. He was about six months old.

What his life lacked in length, it made up for in fullness. Toward the end he had a large tank with a water filter. He had a neon lump of molded plastic in the shape of some kind of coral formation. He was, by all accounts, a happy fish.

I want to apologize now, because I think over time I have treated the issue of my brother’s fish(es) with insufficient compassion. In my previous comments on this site and privately I was crass and disrespectful; I behaved as though my brother’s pet – the only pet he has ever had – was nothing more than an occasion for humor.

And though I won’t deny he was a funny fish, he was also so much more than that. He struggled bravely against fin rot, which caused his little fins to curl and flake. Yet he swam (or wriggled) gracefully through the murky waters of his unclean bowl (this was before the tank).

He was smart. As my brother pointed out to me at least twice, he could easily predict – with incredible accuracy – the times when he would be fed. All one had to do was lay a hand on the food canister, and I.F.S. would come flopping to the top of the tank.

What did he accomplish in his time here? It’s hard to say. But we mustn’t measure a fish’s life in mere dollars, awards, or diplomas. He lived simply, and so at the very least it can be said that he simply lived. Not a bad epitaph.

And, just as importantly, I.F.S. played a major role in the development of a child. He gave my brother an outlet for his incredibly weird naming ideas. If not for that dearly-departed beta fish, he would have grown up and found himself, at age 46, a successful businessman with a family. But unfulfilled.

Because somewhere in the deep, still waters of his heart, the desire would remain to use the name International Fish Station. For something … _anything_. Having had it rejected by his wife for the name of their firstborn, having seen his superiors at work pass it over multiple times as a suggestion for a new brand, he would fall into despair.

“Why doesn’t anyone understand?” he would wonder. “It just makes so much _sense_…”

But none of that will happen (probably). Because the name, like the fish, found a way into our hearts. And there it rests, gurgling, “Remeeeember meeeee…”

We will, I.F.S., we will. You will always be a special fish.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 22nd, 2004 at 6:30 am and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.