Dad's day

Amanda Neisent's post this morning on FB put me in mind of this.

The US celebrates Father's Day in June. 

For me, Pa's Day is always mid-October. This year is Oct. 19. That's the opening day of deer season. The only thing Pa loved more than his kids was deer hunting and fishing. When deer season came around, it was time to load the truck and head to the camp in Stewart County.

Damn allergies.

Just a few stories.

Pa wore an insulated flannel shirt as his jacket if it was cold enough. That's it. He wore jeans, red suspenders and blue button-up shirts with a shirt pocket he never used. He had his wallet, his snub nose .38 and a knife. Sometimes, he wore a blaze orange vest, sometimes not. If he was sitting in a tree stand, no vest. Walking behind the dogs, vest.

Deer season meant it was time to see Miz Pate and get BBQ sandwiches. She remembered everybody. If one of the Buck Hill Hunt Club members had not checked in for the season, she was quick to ask someone about him. If you ever went around Lumpkin, GA, in the 70s and 80s, you know who I am talking about.

Pa, while I'm here, tell Miz Pate I'm OK and I get my BBQ sandwiches these days from Keith's place.

One cold winter evening, I got down from my stand about dark and went to get him. He was standing at the edge of the road. I didn't realize until he got in the truck, but he was shaking, hard. Hypothermia was within reach. I was a bit scared about that, but knew we had heat in the truck and he'd be all right in a moment.

One cold morning, a doe and buck walked out on my stand. I shot at the doe. Did I miss? Dunno. Maybe. She ran anyway. The buck went another way. I knew it was a buck because of the antlers.

A few days later, Pa went by himself. He shot the buck, an 8-point that he put on the wall. I was irked, accusing him of killing my deer. Some years later, he shot another Stewart County buck, a 4-point that just came walking out of the underbrush. We were running dogs that day, but the dogs did not catch the scent of that buck. Pa said he was just as proud of the little buck as he was of his 8-point. That one only got the rack on the wall.

He had to come get me one night. I have the navigational ability of a brick. I was lost. So, I got up on a hill and turned on the CB radio. I called for help. Someone, not sure who, got my message and relayed it to Pa. A short while later, headlights crested a hill. 

I knew then everything was gonna be all right.

He led me out of the woods. He said I did the right thing by waiting.

Pa, I still get lost. Don't have a CB any more. I try to send a message, but I don't know if it gets through. This damned smartphone doesn't have your current number. Somehow, I manage to find my way sometimes, so maybe the messages are getting through. In so many ways, I'm still lost in the woods.

Pa, I'd love to see those headlights one more time. I could sure use you to lead me out of these woods I'm lost in. I need to know everything is gonna be all right.

Maybe I need to wait a little longer. I can do that.