I spent a few hours yesterday celebrating an early Father's Day with my dad. It was one of the rare times that there wasn't a small crowd around when I was there (holidays, b'day's, etc.) We started talking about the longbow my wife is getting me for father's day, and so the conversation turned to hunting.
My father, has always been my hero in anything outdoors related. Whatever it was, he always did it better than anyone else. To this day, I've never met a better hunter or fisherman. He still humbles people that go with him; people that previously thought they were handy at catching fish, or knew how to find deer.
So, we talked for hours about the early days of bowhunting, the bows he'd owned, the advent of the compound bow which he switched to in the 80's, and of the old days of hunting wild quail behind dogs that the remembrance of seemed almost to bring a tear to his eye.
I sat there and listened, and although I've known this man my whole life, I felt as if I were talking to one of the legends - Fred Bear or Ben Pearson. And it made me think, that I can only hope that when I'm his age, I can look back on such a full life, and that maybe somebody will look at me the way I look at him.
Thank you, Dad, for giving me the thing you loved most. The outdoors are my passion as well.