Taking them with you now, impacts them later

 Picture it. Late autumn in Jackson County, Indiana. Deer season was in, most of the leaves were down, and there I sat in a tree stand my dad had set up for me. I was somewhere around 8 years old, and maybe high up enough to make a slight thump if I tumbled out. We were on my great Uncle Johnny's property, a man who can only be described as someone from a magical hillbilly fairytale. It was my first opportunity to deer camp with my dad and his friend Mark. In my mind those guys had left me all alone with a backpack of snacks, and what was most likely an old Daisy air rifle. I really didn't know other girls who had the privilege of such adventures, and fully believed I was a professional hunter. That said, I emptied the bag of apples, cookies and chips in less than an hour, and I know dad had a great time watching a doe devour the apple core I'd tossed behind me from where he sat watching over me. 

   Our camp consisted of an old pop-up camper, a fire pit, and the most unique old man I have ever met. Johnny was likely somewhere in his 80s, and full of straight vinegar, but will eternally remain the root of my love for oddities. He was enough for an entire post all on his own. When we got back, the only creature to fall victim to our hunt was the squirrel my dad had hidden in the back pocket of his vest, and he had conjured up a brilliant scheme to cook it rotisserie style over the open flame. It took me several years to regain my trust in his ability to grill after that night. I remember quite well, him pulling a charred leg from the tiny, scorched carcass, blood running from the inside, and handing it my way asking if I was ready to eat. As I set there on the brink of tears with a churning belly, I saw the heavenly glow of headlights coming down the lane. It was my mom and Mark's wife. They were bringing us a pot of chili. The best chili I've ever had, and he'd known all along it was coming. Dad still enjoys that memory today.

   I'm 46 now. While I've never intentionally ruined a perfectly good squirrel to torment my own children, we've shared many similar and equally fun adventures over the years based off of that one memory. While it may appear those kids would rather sleep in, enjoy a day of conquering the villains in a technological world, and not be bothered with those things we enjoy... They wouldn't. Not when you look at their future. Boring them with your presence, and ensuring they have all the same opportunities you had is one of the greatest gifts you can give any young person. Take them with you. Make it fun. And laugh about it 30 years later as they're passing it all down to the next generation. It's worth sacrificing a buck or two. In the end those memories are all we have left, and they'll need those things they learned from us.

How about you? What are some memories of your youth that stand out as moments that shaped and molded you?

Til next time,

Anchor