“You don’t raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they’ll turn out to be heroes, even if it’s just in your own eyes”, a quote by Walter M. Schirra, Sr.
This past month I’ve had some quality father-time…with both of my boys, Harrison and Jonas. I got to follow Jonas around the golf course on several occasions; I also got to spend a couple days fly fishing with Harrison.
I’m not sure if you have ever been a golf parent but take it from me…it’s a very tough job. Truth is you can’t do much to help their situation. The only thing worse than being a golf parents is being a golf parent/coach…which I did back in 2009 when on June 5 Harrison made his way around Otis Park in Bedford in an even par 72. It was a great day as a dad to have your kid win a sectional as well as the thrill of having your team win the only Golf Sectional in school history.
The month of May found me following Jonas around on his own journey to win a sectional and move on to a regional. While he didn’t win, his sectional round was low enough to move him forward to his fourth regional appearance and a 76 at the Golf Regional was just a double-bogey away from him moving on to the State Golf Tourney. Golf is a special sport as it teaches you so much about the kind of person you are going to be. While I would’ve loved to see Jonas get a shot at state…it was a great few weeks watching him mature and move forward in preparation for a collegiate golf career this upcoming fall.
This past March I was able to make it out to Phoenix and spend a few days visiting Harrison. One special day came when I visited his classroom and listened to ‘his’ class refer to him as “Mr. Carmichael”. It was a proud moment for a father and a long road for a son; for a son who is following in my footsteps as he is about to start his second year teaching special needs…for me it will be my 31st.
Just recently, the week of Father’s Day, Harrison made his way back home. He made the 1675 mile journey in two days. We had plans for golf and some fishing. The weather dictated to us that it would have to be fishing as torrential rains fell in most areas keeping golf at bay. No worries…I had spent a few great days fly fishing what I would call an epic cicada hatch and thus, two float tubes, rain gear and several fly rods…we loaded up and made our way to Greene-Sullivan State Forest.
I was excited to share some great fishing with Harrison. I was in hopes that the hatch of cicadas was on-going and would give us the same excitement that I had experienced just a few days earlier. We had another guest along, Harrison’s girlfriend, Nicole was also going to kayak while we casted a few cicada flies I had tied the day before.
While the hatch had slowed…it was still good enough that a reasonable facsimile to the smaller orange cicadas would prove to be very productive. We put our float tubes close to the shore and made short/accurate casts, moving along, scanning the edge for roaming carp. Over the course of the next three hours we both caught fish; I managed to catch several carp, bluegills and bass. The hysteria of just a few days ago had died down but being able to fish alongside my oldest son was all the ‘hysteria’ I would need on this day.
Nicole would be a true asset as at one point I gave her my camera, told her to take any and all photos she wanted and went back to fishing. She was able to capture some nice moments of the two of us that we wouldn’t have had without her. Above today’s column you will see one such photo of the two of us in unison as we casts towards the edge.
Being a father is a tough job. As Mark Twain once said, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I go to be 21, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years”. The bottom line is that you really don’t know how much a father sacrifices for his kids until…you are a father yourself. It is then and only then that you can look back and better appreciate a good father.
My dad supported me, he still does, and I have tried to support both of my boys. I raised sons…but in my eyes, I raised heroes. Our times together, whether it be on a golf course, a lake full of bass, a stream teeming with trout, a hedgerow loaded with quail or a rolling prairie bursting with pheasants…nature and the outdoors has been the medium, the canvas for which a lasting relationship has been established. If you’re looking for a ‘way’ to close this gap…look no further than the streams and fields of Southern Indiana; when you do you will truly Enjoy the Great Outdoors.
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