The year was 1988. It was 6 degrees in my hunting blind on opening day of turkey season in Sundance, Wyoming. I was good and warm in my wool hunting outfit, with my Thermal insulated boots, my extreme weather underwear and wool hat my motherin law, Mrs. Freeda Lucas, had bought me for this trip.
Making my calls made me wish I had learned to use mouth calls better, but I knew I would soon slip into the nice warm gloves, also given to me by “Mom” (Mrs. Lucas). A coal truck bed could not haul all the hunting and fishing gear she bought for me.
Mom would just hand me a Cabela’s catalog, and say, “Son, order what you want.” I tried to keep it to what I needed for that trip. She has bought me equipment to use in Wyoming and gear to use in Florida. She bought my GPS, watches, knives, boots, clothing, gun — you name it, she furnished it.
Mrs. Lucas was a devoted wife and widow. John passed away in 1967, and she never remarried or even dated. She loved her family, her Lord, community, and her church. We lost Mrs. Lucas last week. She went to her final resting place — Heaven — and will wait there for the rest of her family.
The first people I saw at the funeral home were my lifelong friend, Mark Gooch, formally of Millstone, and his wife Pat. Mark told me he reads Struttin’ Time. He also hunts and goes fishing, unlike the 60 percent who read Struttin’ Time and do neither.
Mark told me once years ago (he probably doesn’t remember telling me) that when I was on WNKY radio he woke up to me on the air every morning. Mark, please don’t hate me for telling that.
Mr. Henry Sword, my dad’s best friend and a man I learned a lot about living from, once told me, “Stevie, the minute you are born you start walking the path to death.”
Mrs. Lucas walked the true path for 91 years. She will be missed.