A Fathers Legacy
“My Dad, Brett, Darryl, Me, Randy.
Is this a good looking hunting crew or what? From left to right is Brad, Darryl, Brett, Randy, Myself, (Mike) and Dean. This picture was taken a few years after my dad Norm passed away, and I am wearing one of our family’s most prized possessions-my dads hat. We were at North-Shore-Resort in Lewiston, my dads favorite hunting area.
Papa Bear, as we affectionately called him, didn’t leave behind any stocks, bonds, land, or money hidden in the walls, just a lot of love. My dad didn’t leave a will, so my mother let us boys (oldest to youngest) pick from some of dads personal belongings. Since I’m the second oldest I chose his Remington 742 Woodsmaster 30-06. Randy (the oldest) took dads shotgun on the first pick, and was I thankful, as I really wanted the gun that had dropped dads four bucks. Thats right I said four! After hunting almost 40 years a forkhorn, two sixes, and his monster eleven point, were his only “trophies.” Believe it or not, I was 32 years old at the time, and I had yet to take a buck, so dads gun was the answer to “THE” question. “Did you miss again?”
Well I’ve had that gun for almost 30 years myself, and just a few years ago I took my fifth buck with it. That matches the five bear it’s dropped, but the value of the gun is not in the amount of game its taken. This cherished “sidekick” is chucked full of memories-great memories that I wouldn’t take a zillion dollars for. Every time I touch it, clean it, carry it, shoot it, my dad talks to me. Sometimes its serious stuff, and sometimes we just laugh. Its not all that unusual for a tear to hit the ground, as papa bear comes walking back through the still fertile soil of my memories.
I ended up giving dads hat to one of my younger brothers, who insist that you can still “smell” dad if you sniff the inside of his hat. Every now and then we all need a sniff, a touch, or a memory of the loved ones that helped us become the people we are, and who loved us unconditionally. Thanks dad - you left behind more “trophies” than you ever realized.
Mike
August 29th, 2007 at 10:51 am
History is good!!! I have my grandfather’s old Pflueger Supreme sitting on a mantel, and until I replaced it last year, his 1913 Winchester Model 12, 16 ga shotgun made every trip into the field. It took my first rabbit, pheasant, and pat. All that doesnt really matter though, as you probably guessed Mike, it was just holding something that my grandfather had, that made that scattergun special.
August 29th, 2007 at 12:19 pm
Mike that was awesome!
Like many hunters who come from a hunting family, I have a couple of guns in the safe that also carry special memory. Prized among them is the BAR .308 my grandfather passed down to me when he finally reached the age that he knew he could never hunt with it again. He was quite proud of the gift, since I’d just moved out here to the West and he knew I wanted something with a little more “oomph” than the .243 I’d been shooting most of my whitetails with.
I’ve yet to take game with it, although I dishonored it with two misses on wild hogs so far (hey, no magic can overcome rushed shots). But I can still feel his presence when I pull that old thing out of the case.
August 29th, 2007 at 1:01 pm
Very cool story. I love the fact that your dad instilled the love of the outdoors with you and that you still get to take that with you every time you enter the woods. Awesome, awesome, story.
By the way I found your blog from Phillip over at the hog blog. I am a Michigan blogger as well and am going to add you to my blogroll if you don’t mind. Would love it if you returned the favor. Great site!
August 29th, 2007 at 1:12 pm
There is just something about having something that a loved one treasured. We lost my Mom five years ago to cancer. She had a small heart pendant with a sapphire in it that my Dad had given her. She wore that necklace every day. When she died, that was the one thing of hers that I wanted. I still wear it regularly, and always think of her when I put it on.
I love the story about your Dad’s hat. It’s funny how an inanimate object can bring someone you love back to you, just because they once wore or handled it.