It’s cold outside, hunting season for all practical purpose is over, and I’m looking for a place to fall apart. Spring turkey season starts on March 19, and that is a long time in the life of a hunter.
As we close this year, I want to reflect on some of the fun — and not so much fun — we have had together in ‘Struttin’ Time’. As I traveled Letcher County this year, I spoke with many readers of ‘Struttin’ Time’, some hunters, some not, but everyone bound together by a single thread, ‘Struttin’ Time’.
I spoke with my lifelong friend, John Wright, who was sick. I saw him at the doctor’s office, but he took time from his pain to tell me how much he enjoyed reading my stories. Johnny Adams, who is one of the best turkey hunters I know, told me about some of his trips this year. Sheriff Danny Webb teases Johnny about being in my stories. Hang in there, Johnny.
There was the story about my friend Jimmy Hampton from Hemphill, who was going to take his grandsons turkey hunting on opening day of season but had to answer the final call of this journey we call life before he could take them. As I talked to Melissa this past Saturday, she told me it was the best story ever. Melissa is Jimmy’s daughter.
We wrote about Rob ‘Cigar’ Fleming, who whispered in Santa’s ear at Breakfast with Santa this past week, “Love you, brother.” Bill Blair is still the coolest old man I know.
We wrote about many of my hunting buddies that are waiting on me for our hunt across the silent river, about the black bear who tried to pull me out of the tree, about my little friends Destiny and Carla Sturgill, and of course their ‘Pap’, my dear friend Raymond Brown.
We have cried together and laughed together this year in ‘Struttin’ Time’, and I hope that The Mountain Eagle
and Ben Gish see fit to carry us again next year. I want you to know I love all of you, and if this should be our last time together, you have still made my life bigger than a dream.
Merry Christmas, and thanks for all the memories.