Grandpa and the Kid

“Grandparents, like heroes, are as necessary to a child’s growth as vitamins”, a quote by Joyce Allston. I am a lucky person…I’ve had a lot of good people in my life, not the least of which were my grandparents. Seems to me that some of today’s families are missing one main cog, that being a relationship with that special grandma or grandpa.

You could easily describe my personality as gritty, determined or even intense. I wouldn’t disagree or even be offended by that description…but as they say the apple usually rolls right up against the base of the tree. My grandma Carmichael (Ora) was the original ‘True-Grit’. Truth is she would’ve probably scared John Wayne a bit. And then again…why wasn’t she a tough old bird…she moved to Nebraska in 1919 at just a bit over 17 years old to farm ground that probably wasn’t too easy to hospitable.

On the other side was my grandma Headley (Josephine). She was tough in a completely different manner; she also grew up and raised a family of seven during The Great Depression. She lost her husband pretty early on in life and had to fend for herself after that. Never, not once in all the 18 years I knew her did she ever gripe or have even the faintest glimpse on her face that would show the hard times she had been through.

Both Grandma’s were super people that influenced who I am today. They loved me and at times spoiled me a bit…but the truest influence was indeed my Grandpa Carmichael (Carl). To say that he was a quiet man might just be the understatement of my life. I really can’t remember what he sounded like. Now for some that might be an issue but for me it is a sign of just how gentle and soft-spoken he actually was.

Grandpa was indeed like a vitamin for me. I followed him around during my formative years from 4 to my early teens. Grandpa was consistent. He proved to me that you get up each day, put your feet on the ground and go do your work. I am sure he had to be sick and feel poorly along the way, but never did I see him slow down…truth is the cows and other parts of the farm didn’t take a day off!

I have told this story before but it was said that grandpa could hit a flying bird with his .22 rifle. As a young boy I sort of grinned and moved on but later when I too started to develop some shooting skills it occurred to me that probably this wasn’t just a story…quite possibly grandpa could have been just such a shot. Either way when it comes time to down a pheasant and a tough shot has been made, I regularly think back to Grandpa Carl and try to picture him making the same rooster shot with the ole Remington Model 38 single shot rifle.

The photo in today’s column is one of my favorites. I keep it up in my room along with many others of fish, birds, hunters, family and friends. When I look at this photo I see a very special time in the development of a very special young man. I am not sure where the photo was taken; it could’ve been in South Dakota, or Iowa, maybe Kansas or even here in Indiana…but probably it originated in the great state of Nebraska when Harrison was only around eight years old.

That little hunter has now moved up and out to Phoenix, Arizona where he is also teaching Special Education. It was somewhere around this time that Harrison harvested his very first wild rooster pheasant. We were out in Nebraska hunting with my longtime friend, Norm. Dad and Norm had dropped me and Harrison off and were going to go about a mile up the ditch and block for us. We hadn’t gone too far when my pack of shorthairs started acting birdy. Like usually happens they locked up right on the edge of the cover between me and the cornfield…the same cornfield that Harrison was plodding through. He was toting a small .410 gauge shotgun that I had modified specifically for him. What I will always remember is that a big rooster flushed from left to right, over the top of the fencerow and directly out toward the picked corn. I was about to pull the trigger when I heard a little pop off to my right and in amazement watched as the bird folded and fell into the golden colored field. Madison, my old female, had slipped through the fence and before I could even hop over the fence had made a nice retrieve.

It was one of “Those” moments. One that I won’t ever forget and one that we have relived a few times throughout the years. Still to this day, Harrison is one of the most capable and best pheasant hunters I have ever had in my company.

I don’t know where you are in your ‘seasons of life’? My hope is that you are either a grandparent, soon will be…or still have a grandparent in your life. My two boys, Jonas and Harrison, are so much better off for having their grandparents (Ivan and Lois) there for them. As Sam Levenson once penned, “The reason grandparents and grandchildren get along so well is that they have a common enemy”! For sure I do feel like the enemy but I know that it would’ve been impossible to raise such a great pair of boys without another ‘pair’ looking over my shoulder.

Regardless of where you are…grandparent, grandchild or somewhere in between, make this the year that you involve yourself or make possible this, one of the greatest relationships in life. Get up and get out…get going with someone you love and Enjoy the Great Outdoors.