JUST DO IT

If you don't try it, you'll never know if you can do it.  I think that was Dolores’ personal motto in life as she encouraged most of the young members of our family to venture into the unknown future.  A favorite t-shirt simply said “JUST DO IT”.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Many years ago we ventured into the world of BOWLING, starting with couples league at church, and progressing to three and five men and ladies leagues.  I lasted many years until a couple of “nozdives” limited motion in my right shoulder.  Dolores, however, continued on in her favorite sport.

Some time ago I came upon three medals Dolores won while participating in the Wisconsin Senior Olympics. At the urging of my son and I, she reluctantly posed for a snapshot, without further explanation. 

While looking through a desk drawer, I recently came upon an envelope which held five gold, one silver and one bronze medal, all won in bowling competition at the Senior Olympics in the 2010 to 2016 period. We were aware that she partook in many such ventures, but she would not publicize such accomplishments.

This reminded us of her idea of a birthday party for the kids… Call and reserve six alleys at the local bowling establishment, fit the gang with balls and shoes, and let them all have at it…IF YOU DON’T TRY, YOU’LL NEVER KNOW IF YOU CAN.  She was a MASTER AT INSPIRATION.

I also found several cards inserted in various handbags and purses containing reminder mottos like:

     A WOMAN IS HELPLESS ONLY WHEN HER NAIL POLISH IS  DRYING

     THE WORLD IS A BOOK AND THOSE WHO DO NOT TRAVEL READ ONLY ONE PAGE

     IF YOU OBEY ALL THE RULES, YOU MISS ALL THE FUN

'Nuff said..........

     

WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO? i DON'T SMOKE

WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO?  I DON’T SMOKE!

During a recent interview, that was the answer given by a relatively senior lady when asked why she was sleeping more during the day.  My initial reaction was “There is a lady who knows what’s going on.”

I don’t smoke either, but it seems that I haven’t had any problem finding something else to do other than sleep.  Although, I see no problem using that pastime as an alternative. 

Problem is “it doesn’t help reduce the “to do” list.  I have been accused of “overplaying” the existence of the list, but I assure you it does exist, even if in unwritten form.   As time rolls by, the ”to do’s” start to accumulate and are occasionally replaced by items that, at the time, may be considered of higher importance or urgency.  Over long periods of time, such as the life of my “to do” list, the cost of both erasers and erasures would probably prove prohibitive.  Thus the reliance upon a mental (call it personal cloud) list.

The ability to whittle away at your list is often controlled by external factors, weather probably being the primary one.  Thunderstorms (5 months a year) preclude taking friends fishing on the big lake.  They also curtailed even local pleasure flights from and to little airports.  Snow and frigid temps eliminated ventures into our little forest in Wild Rose to tangle with the villainous Buckthorn, a never ender on the list.

Other items on the list are more easily kept in the shadow. Those items require not only the cooperation of the weatherman or lady, but of the mind and body also.  They are fueled by ambition and are often shuttled down the list by replacements more easily undertaken, even if by reason of pure simplicity or enjoyment.  The rule: take the easy ones first, take the fun ones first.   

I must admit that I applied the rule today when I skillfully shuttled the completion of my garden fountain down the list and opened the laptop to convey my thoughts on the lady’s response to that question.  I don’t smoke, but I certainly hope you don’t think that I am just “blowing smoke”……. 

MORE VENISON CHILI

It almost brought our planning meeting for the annual 2020 deer hunting trip to an abrupt conclusion.  I should not have mentioned my preparation of the large kettle of venison chili which constituted a prime component of our group’s traditional cabin menu.  Taken by complete surprise, I was informed that the newest member of the group did not eat “chili”.  I had heard that it was because it may have little “red” and “green” things in it.  I tried to convey my assurance that those elements created the marvelous flavor of my chili and they would probably be “cooked” to an unrecognizable state by the time of consumption.  His unwavering position, however, was that those “red” and “green” things would still be hiding in there somewhere, and he would prefer bacon or hot dogs. 

The 2020 hunting season, falling within the forgettable “covid19” dilemma, precluded our frequent visits to the various fine eating establishments in the area, so another approach to this “unexplainable” diversion from traditional, but rewarding, culinary ventures, would have to be created.

I decided that the best approach would be to corral the young hunter and invite him to participate in the creation of the chili masterpiece exactly as it is created, ingredient by ingredient, having him approve of each one, as it disappears into the final delectable product.   Thus, we could eliminate the mystery of the little red and green “things” hiding within.

Overcoming this next obstacle is now on our agenda.  We managed to avoid major confrontation during the 2020 season, since we did have the assistance of the new hunter's mother, fulfilling the position of camp manager and providing a menu totally satisfying to all.        

However, attempts to rectify foreseeable problems for next season, could prove challenging.  Trying to squeeze culinary efforts into a young man’s spring schedule will require special effort.  Virtual schooling, spring baseball practice and other scheduling parameters may prove barriers, but we will continue, unabashedly, in our efforts to expose this young hunter to the magic of a myriad of food groups and spices which may be introduced into the world of culinary masterpieces such as venison chili, whether they exhibit little red or green “things” or those “things” have disappeared into the mystery of the creation.

 

 

 

GENERATIONAL BLESSINGS

 

November 26, 2020

GENERATIONAL BLESSINGS

I have alluded to BLESSINGS on a few occasions over the years, but this year warrants special attention.  Four generations of our family gathered for the opening of the 2020 Deer Gun Season.

Grandpa (Earl) Hill, son Kevin Hill, Grandson Andrew Krueger and Great Grandson Nate Micech rounded out the four generation milestone, while Granddaughter Erika supervised the Cabin chores.  Although Covid19 obviously has cast a cloud over the Season, the blessings of such an occasion and the promise of many more to come makes everything worthwhile. It seems even the old log cabin and the wood burning stove had smiles on their faces.

THINKING NEW BUT FINDING OLD

While attempting to clean some of my old "dribble" from the laptop, I ran across my Thanksgiving prayer from 2014. It could well be these blessings may give us the strength to weather such storms as we are now experiencing with the Coronavirus.  Just thought I'd share it.

  

Thanksgiving 11/27/14 Table Prayer….

After sitting on my deer stand for a couple of hours, I thought “my toes are getting a little cold” but then I immediately thought “what am I complaining about?  It’s warmer than most years, I’m relatively comfortable, and “JUST HOW LUCKY AM I TO HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SPEND OVER 50 YEARS IN THE WOODS ON OPENING DAY OF DEER HUNTING”.  In fact, JUST WHY, EXCEPT BY THE GRACE OF GOD AND HIS GIFTS, HAVE I HAD THE GIFT OF A WONDERFUL FAMILY TO SPEND THESE MANY YEARS WITH. 

I KNOW I AM NOT WORTHY OR DESERVING OF BEING ABLE TO SIT AT A THANKSGIVING TABLE WITH FOUR GENERATIONS OF BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE AND MANY THAT CAN’T JOIN US TODAY BUT ARE HERE IN OUR HEARTS AND MINDS.  MOST PEOPLE NEVER HAVE AN OPPORTUNITY LIKE THIS, SO I THANK GOD FOR HIS GIFTS AND HIS BLESSINGS THAT HE HAS BESTOWED UPON AN UNDESERVING ME AND A VERY DESERVING FAMILY I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH..

THINGS NOT EVERYONE HAS DONE

There are times to work and times to relax and absorb the serenity of the cabin.  The hours spent on the deck were many and captivating.  Particularly, when in total solitude-meaning no one is around to complain about my harmonica talent (of which there is little), I will  retire to the deck and share what melody I can with the quietude of the lake.  Often as not, a soft southwesterly breeze makes its way bringing a soothing accompaniment.

On more than one occasion, I have tarried on the comfort of the deck while watching the full moon come up in the East, ply its way through the branches of pine and oaks, and settle in the West, beckoning the rising sun to bring morning twilight to awaken the new day.  All the while rummaging through my worn bag of harmonicas and remembering melodies of years gone by.  

I recall those couple of occasions as blessings, unplanned and undeserved, but blessings none the less.  I occasionally open the harmonica bag and blow on a few of the instruments and recall some of the old melodies of the past, ranging from old ballads, folk, classical or Irish.  It matters little.  The technique hasn't improved, but the memories never go away.  That's the blessing.  It's a reminder that the beauty of our existence is not regulated by the clock or the calendar.  Life's beauty is there twenty four seven, whenever we choose to turn it on.  We, ourselves, control the switch.

A MOST GRATIFYING HUNT

I seldom hesitate to find a title for a post.  Every little event is rattling in my mind, and I tend to spin them out in short order without a problem.  This hunt, of 2019, however, was different.  Not necessarily the most memorable (check out the hunt of 1963- in a 2013 blog), but very different and fulfilling, thanks in part to the contribution of Grandson Andrew.  Andrew is one of those "Eveready Battery" bunnies.  The kind that just keep on going and don't run out of juice.  He just keeps on going!  I could do that too "a short time ago", but my juice doesn't last that long, especially going up and down certain topography, such as our little woodland.

After standing quietly for a few hours on opening morning, Andrew started a stealthy walk through the forest.  "We call it still hunting". He came upon a fresh blood trail (wounded deer) and followed it for some time before it petered out.  We decided we would let it rest and come back to pick up the trail in the afternoon.

Andrew led me to the start of the trail, which he had marked with an orange scarf.  The trail led us down into a deep ravine which we refer to as the cottonwoods, an area invested with gnarly buckthorn and berry bushes.  After a while, I decided that I was entitled to a rest and chose a comfortable rock, upon which to repose.  Andrew proceeded on, following the quarry's chosen direction, toward an afternoon stand position.  After a short rest, I proceeded to a seldom used stand in  the far corner of the oaks and sat down on a well worn old and welcome lawn chair (left out there for just such a purpose).

Within an hour, Andrew furnished all of the gratification and satisfaction a hunt needs.  He not only recovered the mortally wounded animal, but kicked up a stealthy buck hiding in the oaks, causing it to run past the old hunter reposing in his lawn chair.  

Results, two for two, satisfying and gratifying.  Good hunt guy.