As I stated in a previous article, when I lost my son Steven on December 15, I lost a buddy who tried to involve me in all of his activities that he possibly could — all he could persuade me to try, which always had something to do with the outdoors, “God’s creations.”
Steven could be convincing when the need arose. I realized that several years ago. I hadn’t been hunting in more than 20 years. I was in for a surprise, too, because Steven decided he wanted me to go hunting with him. So he and my wife put their heads and limited resources together and bought me a dandy used deer rifle and other hunting gear that I would need, including a backpack. They bought my license and deer tag, and then Steven hauled me to West Vago, down in western Kentucky.
One young fellow who went with us kept asking how much farther we had to go to get to where we were going. When we got down to Somerset, Steven said we were about halfway there. The other fellow slumped back in his seat and was silent for at least an hour.
By the time we got there, I was worn out, but I wouldn’t admit it because Steven had gone to such great lengths to get me to go hunting with him.
We hunted several times together after that, but not quite so far away, usually in Lawrence County. I almost always got to do the cooking and had fun doing it, just being one of the guys.
It was good to hear from the yard sale lady who had met the real Steven.
From the funny farm till next time.
Contributing writer Relon Hampton lives at Premium.