As a child, and then a young man, some of the best times I had were with a shotgun or rifle in hand, hunting small game or deer with my father, and sometimes a brother or two. My father taught me to point my shotgun in a safe direction, to treat it always as if loaded, and to be sure not only of my target, but what lay beyond it. I have vague memories of the .22/.410 we once had, shooting at small targets at the ripe age of four.
My dad loved hunting. One of my older brother's favorite stories happened on the day of the Alabama-Auburn game. Alabama and Auburn play annually, and the game is truly the most important of any game during the year. Dad had just purchased a H&R Topper, Jr. in 20 gauge, and every time Alabama scored, another rabbit would bolt, and dad dropped it with that little 20.
I don't know how many times we went hunting, but I do know that I always loved them. The crisp feel of the mornings, the crunch of the frosted leaves and grass underfoot, and the thrill of the spooking rabbit or scampering squirrel bring a smile to my face as I think of them, so many years ago. I think of the kind farmers whose land we hunted, of hot late-morning breakfasts, and the exotic taste of coffee, well laced with sugar and milk. I think of the joy these times and things brought to an often-unhappy boy, and I am so happy my father shared these things with me.
My father excelled at everything he did. At summer camps, Dad always managed to lead sports teams, because, besides being able to do virtually anything physical well, he also lead better than almost anyone else, and he would put someone else in his place quickly, if they could do a better job.
It was hard to find someone who didn't like my father. Those not close to him still respected him, and those not on good terms with him would still quickly say that he was a good man.
I learned a lot from my father, about how there is more to knowledge than just schooling, about making up my own mind from the facts instead of just taking someone else's opinions as gospel, and about how important it is to think some things through before making decisions.
My dad passed away Saturday night, surrounded by strong children that he raised, and with a growing army of energetic grandchildren that mourn his passing. The cancer that killed him, mercifully took only two months from discovery to take him away, so he was on the basketball court less than three months before his death at age 65. Someday I too will have children, and when I do, I'll be sure to pass on them all the good things my father gave me, of time, of love, and of shared joy in the fields and woods.
Thank you, Dad. I love you.
John
My dad loved hunting. One of my older brother's favorite stories happened on the day of the Alabama-Auburn game. Alabama and Auburn play annually, and the game is truly the most important of any game during the year. Dad had just purchased a H&R Topper, Jr. in 20 gauge, and every time Alabama scored, another rabbit would bolt, and dad dropped it with that little 20.
I don't know how many times we went hunting, but I do know that I always loved them. The crisp feel of the mornings, the crunch of the frosted leaves and grass underfoot, and the thrill of the spooking rabbit or scampering squirrel bring a smile to my face as I think of them, so many years ago. I think of the kind farmers whose land we hunted, of hot late-morning breakfasts, and the exotic taste of coffee, well laced with sugar and milk. I think of the joy these times and things brought to an often-unhappy boy, and I am so happy my father shared these things with me.
My father excelled at everything he did. At summer camps, Dad always managed to lead sports teams, because, besides being able to do virtually anything physical well, he also lead better than almost anyone else, and he would put someone else in his place quickly, if they could do a better job.
It was hard to find someone who didn't like my father. Those not close to him still respected him, and those not on good terms with him would still quickly say that he was a good man.
I learned a lot from my father, about how there is more to knowledge than just schooling, about making up my own mind from the facts instead of just taking someone else's opinions as gospel, and about how important it is to think some things through before making decisions.
My dad passed away Saturday night, surrounded by strong children that he raised, and with a growing army of energetic grandchildren that mourn his passing. The cancer that killed him, mercifully took only two months from discovery to take him away, so he was on the basketball court less than three months before his death at age 65. Someday I too will have children, and when I do, I'll be sure to pass on them all the good things my father gave me, of time, of love, and of shared joy in the fields and woods.
Thank you, Dad. I love you.
John
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