It was just another phone call, like many others I field every day. A young man on the line said, "I understand you have a place where I can hunt whitetail deer, and I'd like to come to Kansas and give it a try".
We had just purchased some land with a cabin, and were trying to establish it as a place for hunters, fishermen, and others to explore the abundant outdoor activities.
The young man was from Texas, and was to be our very first customer. I replied, "Sure, we'd love to have you". So, after we worked out the details, he headed north to hunt for one of our majestic deer.
His first hunt was less than successful. He shot at a nice buck, but his arrow was off the mark, and he had to watch as his trophy buck bounded off into the timber. He felt terrible about the hunt, but fell in love with our place, and asked if he could come back in December with his parents. He wanted to show them this new found paradise. He was such a pleasant young man, so of course, we agreed on the dates for a return trip.
Upon meeting his parents it was apparent where the young man came by his personality. His dad was tall with a warm smile, and his mother was delightful. You could just tell that she was a little dynamo who lived life to the fullest. Her eyes twinkled, and the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes told the story of someone who smiled easily and often. We immediately liked them both, and just like their son, they loved the cabin, lake, and land. They spent the weekend hiking and relaxing before heading back to Texas.
Like many of our guests, they left a nice note expressing how much they enjoyed the beauty of nature and thanking us for sharing it with them.
Then, there was this PS added by his mother.
"I bet this place is beautiful when it snows. The next time it happens I'd love to come back and bring my grand kids to share it".
We didn't give it much thought, and assumed there would be plenty of opportunities to share that experience with our new friends. It was not to be.
I hadn't heard from the young man, so the next fall I reached out to him to see about another hunting trip. His reply was unexpected, as he said,
"I'm sorry, but I won't be coming to Kansas this year. Mom passed away suddenly last month, and our family is devastated".
I was shocked as well, and felt his pain. I sensed that he and his mother had a very special bond, and that his loss was very deep indeed. His world would never be the same.
A year passed, and he reached out to me inquiring about a hunting trip for him and his dad. We visited a bit, and I again expressed my condolences. Miss Elizabeth mentioned that she thought we still had the notes his mother had written, and it might be something that they would like to have. I agreed, and after asking if they would like to have them, mailed the notes, including the PS about his mother's desire to see the snow.
November rolled around, and the two of them arrived for a week-long stay. Just the two of them this time, and I know it weighed heavy on their minds, not having that third member of the family to provide the additional spark that meant so much. The memory had to be bittersweet. They both mentioned how much she had enjoyed their last visit to Kansas, and how much they appreciated the notes we'd provided. It was good to see them again.
The next morning dawned bitter cold, and there was SNOW....She wanted to share it with her family and it was magical....
As you all know, I'm just a simple man, but my faith is strong, and I think God speaks to us through these special moments. We just need to listen.
They were back again this past week, but there was no snow. They've already reserved the date for next year. Yes, I believe they were listening...but really, What Do I Know.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Sunday, October 6, 2019
1969 - Such a short time ago....
It was a simpler time, or perhaps that's just the picture in my mind - faded over time, and gathering dust in my attic. Regardless, the memories are mine, and from time to time a current headline will elicit the stark comparison of events over the course of a single lifetime. This past weekend Miss Elizabeth and I attended a milestone event of our own. People from across the country came "home" to celebrate the 50 years that have passed since we all bade goodbye to the high school where dedicated and proficient teachers had prepared us for life outside those hallowed halls.
My memories are of a time when days were whiled away with friends, Dads went to work, Moms stayed home, and people would have civil conversations, even when they disagreed. Schools were places of learning, teachers commanded respect.
My friends then, many of whom are still friends today, were an eclectic bunch. Color didn't seem to matter much to us, even though the National stage produced a different story. My friends were Mexicans, Indians, Blacks and Whites.....neighborhood families that welcomed all of us into their homes. We shared more in common than not. Most of us on my side of town were, shall we say, not "well-to-do". Our parents were for the most part, "working-class" who toiled at blue collar jobs and brought home just enough money for a house, a car, groceries, and clothes. Money was hard-earned, and wisely spent, with little left over for frivolous expenditures. It was just the way things were, and we didn't give it much thought.
Like in so many small towns across America, many of us left soon after graduation to pursue our dreams. College educations were deemed to be important, but so was military service, and many of our classmates chose one or the other. Others became second and third generation owners of the family business, while some started their own. As we mingled among our friends to catch-up on the last fifty years, the stories were as varied and interesting as the people relating them. After all, it was the class of '69, and in our minds, we were all destined for greatness. Our class produced doctors, nurses, lawyers, accountants, actors, engineers, bankers, entrepreneurs, ranchers, and just about every other vocation imaginable. Not unlike thousands of other graduating classes across the country, but this was "our" class and "our" story, and it was great to see how it has played out.
For many, the story continues, but for others, their stories were cut short. As the photos were projected on the wall, their young faces captured from 1969, when life was yet to be lived, but for how long? A few tears were shed for friends lost too soon, and for their dreams which were never fulfilled. Life's a journey, and for some, the journey ended way too soon.
It was good to rekindle those old friendships, some which go back much further than when we graduated. Some friends who were there, I've known since before elementary school. There are very few secrets among friends of that duration, but on the other hand, there are secrets that will never be shared.
Those years were a very special time in our lives, never to be lived again, except in our memories. Just like this weekend, it too, was a very special time, and sadly, the next time we gather there will be fewer of us at the tables, and more of us whose pictures will be projected on the wall.
Life's a journey, and friends make the journey all the sweeter.
Take care all my dear friends, and until we meet again, just remember, I'm Jack, and What Do I Know!
My memories are of a time when days were whiled away with friends, Dads went to work, Moms stayed home, and people would have civil conversations, even when they disagreed. Schools were places of learning, teachers commanded respect.
My friends then, many of whom are still friends today, were an eclectic bunch. Color didn't seem to matter much to us, even though the National stage produced a different story. My friends were Mexicans, Indians, Blacks and Whites.....neighborhood families that welcomed all of us into their homes. We shared more in common than not. Most of us on my side of town were, shall we say, not "well-to-do". Our parents were for the most part, "working-class" who toiled at blue collar jobs and brought home just enough money for a house, a car, groceries, and clothes. Money was hard-earned, and wisely spent, with little left over for frivolous expenditures. It was just the way things were, and we didn't give it much thought.
Like in so many small towns across America, many of us left soon after graduation to pursue our dreams. College educations were deemed to be important, but so was military service, and many of our classmates chose one or the other. Others became second and third generation owners of the family business, while some started their own. As we mingled among our friends to catch-up on the last fifty years, the stories were as varied and interesting as the people relating them. After all, it was the class of '69, and in our minds, we were all destined for greatness. Our class produced doctors, nurses, lawyers, accountants, actors, engineers, bankers, entrepreneurs, ranchers, and just about every other vocation imaginable. Not unlike thousands of other graduating classes across the country, but this was "our" class and "our" story, and it was great to see how it has played out.
For many, the story continues, but for others, their stories were cut short. As the photos were projected on the wall, their young faces captured from 1969, when life was yet to be lived, but for how long? A few tears were shed for friends lost too soon, and for their dreams which were never fulfilled. Life's a journey, and for some, the journey ended way too soon.
It was good to rekindle those old friendships, some which go back much further than when we graduated. Some friends who were there, I've known since before elementary school. There are very few secrets among friends of that duration, but on the other hand, there are secrets that will never be shared.
Those years were a very special time in our lives, never to be lived again, except in our memories. Just like this weekend, it too, was a very special time, and sadly, the next time we gather there will be fewer of us at the tables, and more of us whose pictures will be projected on the wall.
Life's a journey, and friends make the journey all the sweeter.
Take care all my dear friends, and until we meet again, just remember, I'm Jack, and What Do I Know!
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