Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Still Here!

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. You probably won't believe this, but I have been sorta busy. My book (MY Father's Gift) is quickly becoming a reality! The publisher/editor/printer Larry Wise of Wise Printing read it. And he informed me he "liked it a lot" and "he wouldn't change a word in it." He also informed me I have a talent folks go to school for years hoping to attain and never do, imagine that! God is good. He is ready to get to work printing the book, but asked me to read it one more time, just in case there may be something else I may want to add. I really didn't think there would be, but was surprised to discover there was. I have added pages to the book and almost have it ready to return to Mr. Wise. Thank you for your prayers, encouragement and support! Please keep them coming.



More news:



A reporter from the Lake Charles American Press accompanied the boys and I on our annual Thanksgiving weekend hunt at Red River wma. The reporter's name is Claudette Olivier. She was on a working assignment for the paper, so I really won't go into much detail about what happened and prematurely steal her thunder.



One of her tasks was to read "My Father's Gift" and she did. However she didn't tell me what she thought of it and I nervously await the verdict. She did tell me she obtained enough material for several newspaper articles, so be looking for it in the outdoors section of the "press."



It was a lot of fun to have Claudette around and she is a real outdoorswoman. She said she really enjoyed the trip and looks forward to returning. My three sons Daniel, Matthew, Chris, and I certainly enjoyed having Claudette there and are looking forward to her return.



I'll try to do better in keeping you posted, but for right now, I've got to say goodbye and get back to work!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

"Trick or Treat"

There's a small hilltop located in Clear Creek wma I call Chris's hill. We began hunting there four years ago and it has never disappointed us. During archery season I managed to resist every temptation to hunt the hill, wanting to leave it undisturbed for Chris on opening day. Saturday was opening day.



I saw Chris safely settled into his climbing tree stand an hour before the first break of daylight before leaving to climb a tree on the next hill over. It was darker than sin and I became a little disoriented to where I was, while trying to cross through a dense thicket to reach the other hill. I did manage however, to keep Chris's location fixed in my mind with every twist and turn. Crossing the thicket with a large stand on my back wasn't easy, to say the least. The thing managed to grab a hold of every vine and limb attempting to block my blind passage. And it created a lot of unwelcomed noise in the process and disrupted the peaceful harmony of the quite woods. So it came as no surprise to me when a flashlight urgently flashed from the direction of my son and my half deafened ears heard a jumble of broken word-like sounds issue forthwith, from the darkness. My broken ears couldn't decipher their meaning, but I could reasonably guess what they were saying so I responded.



"Oh, hush up. I'm doing the best I can," I said in, and he did.



I finally made it to the top of the second hill, chose a tree and began climbing. The new dawn was minutes away from awakening when I finally managed to settle in my seat.



The sun was begining to break over the far horizon and slowly rising into the gorgeous clear-blue sky. It was really quite a sight to behold. A sense of well being overcame me and put me at ease to properly enjoy God's gift of the great outdoors. But I knew the sun would be bright and blinding if I continued to sit facing east. So I stood up on the stand's bottom platform, faced the trunk of the pine tree, grabbed the upper portion of the stand and inched my way around intending to face westward.

Once confident the problem presented by the blinding sun was fixed, I turned my body to face away from the trunk and to sit down to continue enjoying the morning's hunt. And my eyes saw something out of place . . . and sort of odd looking. It took a few seconds for my shocked brain to decipher what they were focused on.



If you can believe it, I was looking at an indian teepee or tee-pee or, whatever! And it was painted camoflauge with a hunter orange tarp covering the top and only a very short fory yards away. And if that wasn't enough of a jolting shock for me, there was a hunter sitting inside with his head stuck outside of an uncovered window, gazing upward and his line of sight drilling into mine!



Needless to say, I was so embarrassed, especially when I realized it was he and not my son Chris, shining the flashlight and saying something to me earlier, in the darkness. And to think I told him to "Hush up," too.

"Oh boy, I'm in trouble!" I thought to myself.



I had the clear advantage of height on him, as far as deer hunting was concerned. Sitting in my perch far above ground exposed the entire hilltop to my searching eyes. Any deer which made the mistake of exposing itself in the clearing would be quickly put to rest before the other hunter knew what was going on. But you know I couldn't do that and I couldn't climb down during "prime time either. I would frighten all of the game away." There was no easy way out and it took me a few minutes to find it.

I attached my rifle to the pull-rope and gently lowered it to the ground and pantomined to the fellow hunter to keep his eyes on me. I would alert him to any approaching deer ahead of time, so he could prepare himself to shoot.



I remained sitting and observing during the next three and a half hours before getting down to apologize. I was happy to make a new friend named John Boudreaux of Sulphur, La. No deer showed itself that morning, but I believe we both ended up having a good time.

p.s. I found a different place to hunt for the remainder of the weekend.



John, if you read this, thanks again for being so gracious by accepting my most humble apologies!

Welcome

A big welcome and thank you to "Setfree" for visiting and becoming a follower of the blogsite. I hope I don't disappoint.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Clear Creek youth hunt with Christopher

Early Saturday afternoon Christopher and I arrived at the primitive camp ground and parked the airstream. After a long hike through the woods, we climbed separate trees and settled in for the hunt. Chris caught my attention and informed me he had seen two turkeys. Other than the sighting of the two birds and with the exception of one squirrel, we didn't see anything else for the rest of the day.



After a good night's rest we headed back to the wood, climbed our trees and got settled in our stands twenty minutes before daylight. At ten o'clock Chris saw two doe leap across a lane cut through the pine tree plantation. He tells me to use the deer call. I picked up the doe call and bleat to them about four times. Three minutes later, I spotted two young deer coming our way and about to step out into the lane. I saw Chris looking the other way and knew he had no clue deer were so close. I had to get his attention without spooking the deer.

"Chris," I softly whispered.

He turned his head and made eye contact. I held up two fingers and pointed toward the deer.

"Two deer, get ready," I tell him. And he gives me this incredible look, as if to say, "You've got to be kidding me."



I couldn't believe it! I did everything I could except shout to make him believe me and he finally looked to where I was frantically pointing, begging him to shoot. He saw the first deer step out, raised his rifle and shot, dropping it on the spot! He told me later how he really did think I was pulling his leg.

During the long hike out of the woods, he caught my attention and told me had to take a break to rest. His request filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction since, it was only last November that it was I demanding the breaks. And it was Chris and Matthew calling me the old man. Folks, let me tell you, the walking has paid off big time! It'll be a while before I hear the boys picking on me again. So, if you can, take a few minutes out of each day and do some walking. Once you get past the first step, you've got it made. And get outdoors where good memories and strong bonds are formed.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

WRITING NEWS

Jerry Wise of Wise Printing has possession of the written manuscript of "MY Father's Gift." I nervously await the completion and the outcome of his reading and/or editing. The book is taking a critical first step in becoming a self-published reality. I continue to recieve much needed encouragement and prayers from family and friends.

In other news I recieved an unexpected visit from the owner of the "Christian Star Magazine." She asked if I'd be interested in writing an outdoor column. She and I are to have a secondary meeting to discuss further details.

I've also spoken to Thomas, who is drawing the illustrations for the book. He too is in need of prayer, for health issues.

And I've met a professional photographer named Jim George while walking. He took the portraits of me to be used on the cover of the book, with no charge. So, as you can see, the prayers continue to be answered in unexpected ways. Thanks and if you don't mind, please continue.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Chris and I went to a youth hunt at one of my favorite places where I had experienced several grand adventures in the past. It's called Red Dirt wma. If you look for it on a map of Louisiana you will find it located in the heart of the Kisatchie National Forest, just south and west of the historic city of Natchitoches. The last time I can recall visiting the tall wooded ridges sprinkled with scattered boulders was way back in the year 1997, when I downed the largest racked buck of my life. During the drive for this special trip with my son I envisioned him doing the same. I should have known better.

My first clue things wouldn't be as I thought came shortly after arriving at the ranger's check-in station, a requirement. I informed the ranger where I intended to set up camp and he said that would be okay, but I may want to reconsider. During the ensuing conservation he told me of a 580acre forest fire burning nearby and all of the firefighters battling the blaze were using my camping spot as a base for operations!

Not knowing where else to go, Chris and I set up camp a short distance away from all of the firemen and their equipment and left for the Saturday evening hunt. I parked the truck off of the road and looked north, where the fire was located. A thick column of wood smoke billowed upward, about a half mile away. The pine scented-aromatic smoke was all around us, filling the sky and covering the land, somewhat reminding me of a foggy morning. The ranger didn't tell us not to hunt there, so we figured everything would be okay and entered the woods. DUH!

We spent the rest of that evening and the next morning waiting for the stampede of animals fleeing the fire. The whole while white and black ashes drifted down from the shy and landed softly on the ground all around us. The drone of the fire fighting airplanes buzzing the sky filled the airwaves. We didn't see any animals other than an overweight squirrel too big to flee and one hawk. I spent the entire hunt wondering if the fire would jump the road, consume my truck and then, us. I thank God it didn't happen.

Of course, we came home empty handed and unscorched. There was no venison in the ice chest. But we did come home with something much more precious than gold or venison, a shared memory of another great outdoor adventure in God's forest. And just when I thought I had seen it all!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Update

I wasn't with them so I can't properly tell any stories, but my new-old buddies Shannon and Ian have had some success with their blackpowder rifles. Ian brought home the venison by putting down a tender doe. Shannon shot a monster boar hog (300lbs.) and donated it to feed the hungry.

Meanwhile, I've met wtih a publisher. The first step has been taken to see the book "My Father's Gift" become a reality!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Opening Day- Saturday Evening

The three of us returned to the old airstream to eat sandwiches for lunch and discuss our options for the evening hunt. Everything was proceeding smoothly until Ian and I discovered Shannon trying to conceal a stash of oatmeal cookies. To make a long story short, we all had oatmeal cookies after the dust settled.

Two o'clock found us parting ways in the woods to search for our own tree to climb, far away from where we had originally began the day. We had scouted the area weeks ago and found a lot of promising deer sign, our hopes were high.

I found what I thought was the perfect tree to climb and attached my climbing stand to it for the hunt. After settling down and getting comfortable the only thing left for me to do was to sit and wait for the appearance of the wily-old whitetail. The uneventful wait dragged on and on and spanned over the next five hours.

The sun was sinking to meet the horizon, time gained speed was quickly expiring. The high level of confidence I began the hunt with took a corresponding nose dive with the disappearing orb. A saving grace was the fact the sunset was really very beautiful and I wouldn't have seen this gift of God's artwork by sitting on the couch.

A few minutes later, the weakening sun was almost out of sight and darkness was approaching. All of the birds were preparing to roost for the night and the woods were becoming unaturally quite. The moment had arrived for me to start thinking of the exit from the woods.

And then . . .A stick cracked behind me and sent the loud sound of a rifle shot through the high volume setting of the hearing aid residing in my left ear. I'm glad the large trunk of the pine tree I was sitting in blocked the view of whatever was behind me. Otherwise, I'm certain it would have seen me jump. I slowly turned my head to see what invader had the gall to interrupt my peace. I discovered not one, but two does and they were less than fifteen yards away!

The moment of truth was at hand and I ever so slowly twisted my body to face the animals and drew the bowstring all the way back to my ear. My right eye peered through the sight and placed it on the larger animal's shoulder, but I had one small problem. The arrow would have to pass through a small obstruction of tiny tree limbs. I found an opening, about eight inches in diameter. After years of practicing to hit a one inch bull'seye at thirty yards, it was much more than I needed. My index finger gently squeezed the trigger of the release. My eyes locked onto the bight colors of the fletching and watched it fly true. They saw the broadhead pass through the center of the opening exposing the unsuspecting deer's shoulder and then lost sight of it. A loud CRAAACK! filled the air at the same time of the broadhead's passing through the opening.

Pandemonium broke loose! The two startled deer (one of which I knew to be mortally wounded), crashed through the woods with their white tails waving in the air, in a gesture of defiance and blowing out insults to the nut sitting in the tree (you guessed it, me).

Hey, don't get upset, it's really alright, since I knew I'd have the last laugh at the dinner table. Why, it was so close to dinner time, with a little imagination I could already smell the venison sausage cooking.

Darkness soon enveloped the woods and the small portable radio in my pocket sqawked to life. It was No Primer Shannon.

"Hey Rodney, did I hear you shoot?" he asked.
"Yea, you sure did," I responded, my shaky voice betraying my excitement.
"What was it? I saw two does pass by me after you shot," he responded.
"I shot a doe."
"Did you make a good shot?"
"Hold on a minute. Think about who you're talking to here. Now really, a second place finisher in a statewide archery tournament, and you're asking me if I made a good shot? It was only fifteen yards away." I was still high on adrenaline and was having some fun at Shannon's expense.
"Whoa! I'm sorry Deadeye. I'll get down and come help you look for her."
"Thanks partner. I'll see you soon."

After the brief conversation ended, I climbed down from the tree and went to search for the bloody arrow. I found half an arrow instead. The half containing the broadhead. I held it in my hand and my unbelieving eyes examined it in detail in the bright beam of light generated by my headlamp. I went into temporary shock when my brain finally accepted the truth the eyes were relaying. It's still painful to admit, but here it is, THE BROKEN ARROW WAS CLEAN. Which of course meant that I had somehow MISSED and THE DEER HAD HAD THE LAST LAUGH AFTER ALL!

I tromped through the woods holding onto the clean-broken arrow to intercept Shannon and Ian and to save them from walking to meet me. Of course, I had to eat crow and offer my most sincere apologies to Shannon for ridiculing him for questioning my shot placement. I will always be grateful to him for graciously accepting it, but the gleam in his eyes and the curled lip tells me I haven't heard the end of it.

The consensus is, the downward trajectory of the arrow caused the rear half of the shaft to glance off of one of the small limbs. The result was to throw the arrow radically off to the side into a tree. The violent impact had thus, broken the arrow in two.

Until next time . . . THE END.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Opening Day of Archery

The rising sun revealed a clear blue sky and a sea of tall green grass covering the ground of a massive clear-cut, where the timber company had removed practically every stick of lumber. If it were not for the environmental laws protecting the narrow strip of hardwoods growing along the natural streams, I'm sure I wouldn't have had the tree I found myself sitting in that morning. By personally hauling thousands of tons of cut trees to the wood mills, seeing them processed into finished products (paper, boards, railroad ties etc.), I was able to fully appreciate the delicate balancing act performed by the all the various people in their respective organizations, to preserve the status quo. I said a little prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord for giving us the wisdom as a society to preserve His precious gift.



An unsuspecting hummingbird appeared directly in front of me and found a watering hole in an oak tree thirty yards away. I enjoyed the distraction and watched it zip around the trees, marveling at its ability to do so without crashing. I began daydreaming and thinking of my son Michael, who was then and still is, working his but off (literally) in the USArmy. A feeling of pride engulfed me as I pictured him studying very hard to complete his advanced training. (Please don't forget to pray for all of the members of our armed forces. Thanks.)

Seemingly out of nowhere a very loud thrumming noise from an unknown source, invaded my brain through my left ear. Whatever it was, was very close and startled me so much my body involuntarily flinched. My head snapped to the left preparing to take defensive measures and was tickled to see the hummingbird buzzing, inches away from my nose. I was surprised to see one of God's smallest creatures making so much noise, until I remembered I was wearing a hearing aid cranked up to maximum volume. The critter had apparently noticed me sitting still and became curious to see what crazy human would try to pretend to be part of a tree and acting like a nut.

Once satisfied I was no threat to him or had any designs for his watering hole, the tiny bird kicked it into high gear and zipped away. My eyes followed the flight path and caught a flicker of movement, behind a merckle bush thirty yards away. They focused on the head of a doe appearing in a tiny opening. My mind instantly recognized the opportunity to harvest the animal would soon occur. It knew, she only had to take two more steps to clear the obstruction from the path of the arrow's flight.

I began to slowly rise from my sitting position while the leafy bush had the same effect of blocking her view of me. My arm pulled the bowstring back and anchored the mechanical release to my right ear. My eye placed itself to see through the sight and peer along the thirty-inch length of the arrow. A diamond sparkle of sunlight reflected off of the tip of the razor-sharp broadhead. My body was tuned and I was ready.

The adrenaline flowed through my veins and caused my heart rate to increase, pounding. All of my other senses had also came online, to a heightened state of readiness. Time seemed to stand still. After placing second in a state-wide archery tournament, my confidence of bringing home the venison was at an all time high. I just knew it was about to happen. All of the long hours of work and preparedness was about to pay off.

Seconds seemed to stretch into eternity, but the stubborn deer refused to step out from behind the bush. The bowstring began to exert its will to return to its original position, forcing me to increase the strength in my arm to resist the sixty pound pull. The extra strength provided from the initial burst of adrenaline was abondoning me and I was becoming weaker. I watched the sight began to wobble in erratic motions and slowly released the pressure off of the string to return it to its normal position. I didn't want to wound the animal by risking a bad arrow placement.

I watched the solitary bush for the next hour and a half expecting to see the the doe again and it never happened. The thing had pulled a Houdini magic act right in front of my eyes. I wouldn't trade the whole experience for any other on opening morning. I thanked God for the gift and waited for my two buddies to come fetch me. No Primer and Number One showed up a short time later and reported an uneventful morning. The three of us put our heads together and decided it was time to implement "plan B," for the afternoon hunt.

. . . stay tuned, it only gets better!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Opening Weekend

The piney woods were calling and "No Primer" Shannon, "Number One" Ian and I "Deadeye" were going to visit. The long anticipated opening day of archery season had finally arrived and the three of us were going to Clear Creek Wildlife Management Area, last Friday.



Since I was forced to work that afternoon, my two compadres hooked up the old airstream I've been working on all summer to the truck and left me standing in the yard inhaling their dust. I must admit with tears threatening to form in my eyes (from the dust) I suffered through a range of different emotions (not all good) as I watched the young-hunters depart, in my opinion, a little to gleefully. I thought the two could have at least shown a little reluctance in leaving me behind. I forced myself to be comforted by thinking of the dove stew Number One said he would have waiting for me when I arrived later that night.



I pulled into the campground around 9:30 p.m. and found two over-stuffed hunters lazily lounging in their chairs. I made the mental observation they looked like two swollen frogs ready to pop, from eating all of the stew of course. Well, okay, not quite all, after scraping the crust off of the bottom of the cast iron pot, I did have enough to temporarily satisfy my hunger I ate the delicious meal while the two swollen bellies watched and crookedly grinned, in obvious gas pain or from sharing a secret joke. I'll sum it all up by just saying, the two dove, one pigeon and gravy was delicious and if the roles were reversed, I'd probably eaten it all by myself.

I went to bed contented, already knowing we were going to have a great huntin' season together, new stories were waiting to be written and memories created.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Archery Tournament

During 3d archery shoot held at the Lake Charles Archery Club a fellow I have not met before approached Shannon (No Primer), Ian (Number One), and I. His name is Brandon Collins, the owner of an internet outdoor outfitter business located in Leesville. He wanted to inform us he is a sponsor of a state wide tournament being held in Opelousas and invite us to compete. Telling us a thirty dollar entry fee was all that was required to compete against the best archers in the state. We could win the bragging rights and a gold, silver or bronze belt buckle, if we placed first, second or third. You could tell he is a good salesman by the way he worked our vanity and sold us on the idea of actually taking time out of our hectic summer schedule to drive an hour and twenty minutes last to join the competition designed by and founded by a group of guys from Oklahoma claiming to be serious bowhunters.



Now folks, please don't think we were so naive to think any one of us could actually place in the tournament full of professionals No sir, after visiting the fancy website of the previously unknown organization hosting the event, we figured we'd attend, compete, take our lumps like men are supposed to and learn hard lessons from the best. Besides, we figured no one would know us in Opelousas anyhow and therefore, could suffer our embarrassment in the relative safety of anonymity.



We arrived, saw Brandon, signed up and paid our thirty dollars to the cause. I looked around and saw countless serious-minded archers with bows of every make and model tuning up and getting ready. By the look in their eyes, we could tell we were in trouble, kittens amongst tigers. The three of us huddled and becamed determined to do our best.



After a detailed rules briefing by the officials, the course with forty stations (twenty stations shot twice) was opened to competion. We were seperated and placed in different groups containing five competitors and started flinging arrows. We shot while sitting down, standing up, leaning sideways, body facing forward-twisting around to shoot behind at far and close targets. What kind of targets? Well, let's see, there were big bears and little bears, hogs, deer, turkey, exotics and even an alligator.



When the shoot was over and the dust settled, all of the competitors were informed it would take a couple of days to tally the results and for us to check their website for the results. Before leaving the festive atmosphere, we strolled over to the display table to admire the pretty shining belt buckles and were told by the guard the winners of the treaures would soon recieve them in the mail, as if. We wiped the sweat off our brows and went home.



A few days later, word quickly spread Ian Booth (NUMBER ONE) placed first! I (now named ""Deadeye," by Ian) placed second! and No Primer Shannon Clarke placed fourth! Bottom line, Ian and I had won the gold and silver buckles. AND EARNED THE RIGHTS TO ATTEND THE NATIONAL SHOOT HELD IN ADA, OKLAHOMA! The three of us came so close to having a clean sweep for Southwest Louisiana our heads were spinning in the clouds. How's that for bragging rights.



We (mostly me) waited impatiently for the buckles to arrive in the mail. They never came. After contacting Brandon, Ian learned they would be on display at the national shoot in August and we could pick them up there, if we attended to compete. If not (and we didn't), we were told once again the buckles would be mailed to our homes, after the shoot. I told everyone I knew I would soon have a gaudy silver buckle to show them.



Again, feeling trapped in a bad movie, I found myself impatiently waiting on the mailman. I almost accomplished driving Nancy and the boys crazy by asking on a daily basis if the buckle had arrived. Days slowly turned into months and still no buckle. Finally Shannon told me he heard through the archery grapevine that the hosting organization had led us on a wild goose chase and disappeared with our thirty dollars and the buckles!



I visited their website (http://www.the3d.org/) to confirm the rumor and found it discontinued. I had to accept the rumor as truth. The shysters really had disappeared into the nether world! I hope they get lost and stay there. But hey, scout's honor, we were champions for a time and it was a lot of fun. And thank God, Ian and I didn't waste our time and money to take a trip to Oklahoma, we weren't that vain. But on the other hand now that I think about it, I'm fairly certain Ian and I would have returned to Louisiana, as champions of boxing.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Trying to catch up

I once thought that things would settle down as I grew older and I would have more time to spend with my boys. With that in mind I redoubled my efforts to catch up on my honey-do list immediately following hunting season in order to spend more time with Chris, my junior in high school. With my youngest son Patrick living in a dorm and attending the Louisiana School of Math, Science and Arts at Northwestern University located in Natchitoches, La. and the other five boys so busy doing their own thing I think they have forgotten who their Dad is, I just knew the fish crazy Christopher and I would have a fun time bonding.

In order to put the plan in action, the day after hunting season concluded saw me begin to continue the restoration of the old airstream and working on our wood canoe. The storied old boat was fast approaching sixteen years old and had developed two long cracks in the fiberglass exterior. A section of the transom also needed to be torn out and replaced, thanks to a colony of persistent and very hungry carpenter ants. And once all of that was completed the entire exterior would need to be sanded and resealed with polyurethane. All in all, you can see I had my hands quite full. Throw in Nancy's honey-do list of neglected chores for the house and later, the responsibility for mowing the neighbor's yard since his work required him to leave his expecting wife and child here to be in Florida for who knows how long, I felt a little overwhelmed and didn't see how I could pull it all off. And don't forget I still had to labor at my day job at the railroad, to put the groceries on the table.

Feeling sorry for me yet? Well, please don't, because all of that just naturally comes with the territory and is the price one needs to pay to spend the time I do in God's great outdoors. I've learned sacrifices must be made in order to reap the just rewards. But the one thing I really didn't want to surrender was the time I sought to take Chris fishing in the canoe. However, the chore of repairing the canoe was huge and threatened to sink my good intentions. Not long after starting the work, I quickly realized I may have overloaded the wagon and probably wouldn't get it done.

And then, God sent me a gift. Another son, a true compadre, a kindred soul, one I didn't know I had running around in Laredo, Texas. Now please don't get upset with me, it's nothing scandalous, I promise. Why, I've never been to Laredo in my life.

Carlos, laid off from his rail job in Laredo, traveled all the way to Louisiana to temporarily fill in the work vacancies on our end of the railroad. The first day we met, the two of us learned we had a lot in common.

My new compadre soon became bored sitting all day at the hotel with nothing to do while waiting for the call to go to work. During the downtime he came over to visit and I began teaching him how to shoot the bow. It was quite easy. He was a natural and caught on very quickly. There were a few anxious moments I thought he was going to outshoot me. It didn't quite happen, but it was close. In reward for the lessons, my compadre would prepare some delicious Mexican dishes for the family. And perhaps most important, began helping me with my chores!

He soon moved out of the hotel (he didn't have to, it was furnished by the company) and stayed with us. He adopted me as his new Dad (his real Dad had passed away) and Nancy as his new mom (commadre) and we in turn, happily adopted him and his adorable family as our own. He has a talented-beatiful wife named Cynthia and two precious little girls named Yara and Keisha. And yes, all seven of my boys were happy to have another brother and for the first time, three sisters.

Carlos was eventually called back to work in Laredo and had to return. We now speak together on a regular basis and he has come to see me since. We hope to do a little hunting together and put his newfound skills to the test. Perhaps we'll have another story for you then. In the meantime, it's important to know how intstrumental he was in helping me meet all of the impossible goals I had set for myself. But, little did I know at the time, although the canoe had been completely restored to it's original grandeur, my grand plans of taking Christopher fishing every weekend this past summer were doomed to failure. Stay tuned . . .

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Summer Activities

We went to Lawton, Oklahoma to see Michael graduate from boot camp. We are all so very proud of him. While there the boys and I climbed Mt. Scott in the Wichita moutain range and spent some quality time with Michael before he continued his training. Thank God, Michael inspired me to begin walking three months prior to the visit and therefore losing thirty pounds and four inches in the waist, I had forgotten how strenuous mountain climbing is. Folks, I can't say enough to encourage you into getting out and doing a little walking on a daily basis. It has revitalized me so much so that I can proudly proclaim I am now ready for hunting season to begin. If I can do it, anybody can.

Michael was so committed to joining the US Army he lost approx. seventy pounds by dieting and excersizing. I literally watched my son melt before my eyes! Word spread about town and the next thing I knew a reporter from the Lake Charles American Press was showing up to interview Michael for a human interest story. Her name was and still is Claudette and the story she wrote made the front page! Like I said, we're all real proud of him for his determination to see his goal completed and for inspiring the rest of us and others to work to stay healthy.

Something else you may need to know is Claudette is not your average everyday newspaper reporter. She also happens to be the editor for the OUTDOOR section of the paper. And I've been one her biggest fans ever since she had signed on with the paper. Talk about God putting the right people in your life!

During the elapsed time since first meeting her, I've managed to introduce her to the challenges of archery with the help of the Lake Charles Archery Club and gar fishing. She's fun to be around and a quick learner. She also is in possession of one of my manuscripts of the hopefully soon to be published book, "My Father's Gift." Of course I feel like I'm on the hot seat and nervously await her judgement.

Speaking of the book, I've recently recieved an endorsement from Rev. Gene Winkler after he was so gracious of taking the time to review it. He said he thoroughly enjoyed reading the book during a recent family trip and ended up having to share it with the rest of his family and hoped I didn't mind. You see, what happened was this: Rev. Gene had sat in back reading and chuckling while his son drove and his wife sat up front wondering what was wrong. He had to tell them and of course I didn't mind!

Another thing, some months ago a dear friend of cousin Colleen came all the way from California to visit. Colleen had brought her over to our home so we could have the pleasure of meeting her, for the first time. The subject of my writing came up and the next thing I knew, Kay began reading the manuscript. They had an appointment to keep and Colleen kept nagging her to put it down, but she refused! She flatly told Colleen she was the one responsible for her starting to read it and now she had to see it to the end, to sit down and relax. And she did! Like I've said that was some months ago and I haven't heard from Kay since. That is until recently, I was surprised to recieve through the mail, via Colleen, one of author Patrick F. McManus' books titled "The Night The Bear Ate Goombaw." Kay had inscribed inside the front cover how she found my writing very similar and how the book had once belonged to her beloved late husband Roger. I am so humbled. Thank you Kay, for the precious gift and your encouraging words. I'm reinspired and I promise to continue to do my best to see the book published for you and for Roger.

Monday, May 24, 2010

I'm back online

Hi friends. I didn't realize it's been over a year since the last blog posting. I'd like to say I've been on sabbatical and resting, but that's not the case. I've been working my tail off and participating in a precious few more outdoor adventures. First I'm happy to report your prayers of support for the Dilmore family did very well. Eric is well on the road to a full recovery. I thank you on behalf my friends, Bob, Angie, Eric and Andrew.

I managed to survive another exciting hunting season and came home with a bag full of good stories. Although I ended up providing more dinner fare for the coyotes than I did for my family, I would have to say it was one of the most successful seasons to date.

In between hunts and work, I refurbished the canoe, continued touching up the old camper and caught up on a few more items on the ever growing honey-do list.

In most recent times, I'm proud to report my son Michael has just graduated high school and is reporting for boot camp June the eighth to pursue a career in the Army. He, along with his brother Daniel, now gives me two sons serving in the military. Please pray for their well being along with the rest of the members.

I'm also pleased to report my youngest son, Patrick, just completed the ninth grade and has been accepted into the prestigious Louisiana School of Math, Science, and Arts located at Nortwestern State University. He will be shipping out next weekend. He also bagged his first deer last season. And it was an eight point buck! I have to say he inherited both of his best attributes from each of his parents. Can you guess which came from what side?

There's still a lot more to catch up on but, we'll do it later.