No, not Sgt. Pepper. :rolleyes:
Without my grandfather's influence, I doubt I would have ever taken up bowhunting, fishing, or pretty much anything pertaining to the outdoors. As early as I can remember, Grandpa Wesbrock was a bowhunter. And as a little kid, I always dreamed of the day I'd go with him to deer camp, bow in hand, tag in pocket.
I can still remember the first morning he walked me to my stand, telling me to stop shuffling my feet between pointing out landmarks -- turn west out of the cabin and walk straight to the field, turn right and walk to the big pine, turn right again and walk straight to the stand. Easy enough all right, and I'll never forget him laughing his butt off when I got lost coming back that morning, less than 60 yards from the cabin. Thank God my dad was there to "rescue" me, or I'd probably still be wandering around those pine trees. I haven't set foot on that property in two decades, but I'll bet I could still find that stand.
There are a lot of things about hunting with him I'll never forget, but most of all the time he spent answering all my stupid questions and trying his best to instill a love of the hunt above a desire for the kill. He was and still is the best bowhunter I've ever had the pleasure to walk a trail beside.
On Febryary 19, 1988 I lost my grandfather, my best hunting buddy, to lung cancer at the young age of 61. I still miss him every time I string a bow, make an arrow or just take a walk in the woods. God bless you, Grandpa. Hopefully on my best day I'll be half the man and bowhunter you were on your worst.
Topic: It was twenty years ago today (Read 863 times)
