To Larry-To my Father

If you could track back to the origin of my love for hunting, all trails would lead to my Dad. Born Merle Leland Meyer his legacy lives often not in what he did, but what he didn't do. Being raised in central Nebraska there's a long standing code, a legacy if you will, to gather and share your hunting within a tight group of friends. My father was no stranger to the game as every year the truck would be warming up, the Warn Manning stove glowing red hot and the smell of coffee being poured into a thermos. Characters was the common distinction for my fathers group, and a bunch of characters they were.

Larry had Polio as a child, his leg bore the signs, his crutches supported the mass. Armed with his smile and standing out as a leader in the group there were only few days when the hunts weren't set up to favor Larry's inability to move around.

Dave seemed to always be around when the season turned, shotgun in hand, peppermint schnapps in pocket, ready to go: we were glad to see him. There were others, no shortage of Nebraska friends in October.

As for my dad, you do the math! Radio personality, sales manager, single father. Can you say "Character"? Wound up so tight that if it weren't for us boys holding him back I think he would have screwed himself in the ground. That's where the Larry of this post comes in.

Uncle Larry I called him, an Uncle by marriage but and Uncle none-the-less. Being a generation ahead of me and one behind my Dad Larry just seemed to fit in anywhere. One of the nicest guys a fella could know! It was in my 9th Grade year, 1971 I believe. Nebraska had just won the National Championship, I was finding out what Girls were and how they worked, not a care in the world and the energy of a wound up yo-yo. I bugged Larry to take me deer hunting with him, my father had his deer hunting buddies, I wasn't one of them.

Finally the day had come: Larry picked me up at O dark thirty in the morning and off to a creek along a cornfield near Cozad Nebraska. I sat still about 15 minutes, the yo-yo came unwound and up and down the creek I went looking for the deer. I later learned that Patience is a virtue! Once I had thoroughly ruined our hunting day Larry gathered me up, bought me lunch and took me home. It was the best day ever for me!

I never got to hunt with Larry again, until. Some 30+ years later I started to yearn deer hunting out west again. It was all I could do to get time with my Dad, I finally gave up trying, not really sure that I wanted to hunt with some of the people he hunted with anyway, and before I could solidify plans, my Father passed away. It was November of 2000, he had been staying on and off with Larry and his wife Kathy, it was there, sometime in the night that my Father passed in their living room recliner.

The event brought Larry and I back together through a conversation with my brother, and my brother and I set a plan in action to join Larry on a Nebraska Deer Hunt. Some 30+ years later, I was afield for only the second time with Uncle Larry. I had brought a friend, Jim, from New Jersey out with me. Jim and I had been in business dealing and were quickly becoming friends outside of work. I was looking forward to spending some time with him out side of the contract pressures, project requirements and conference calls. We joined my brother in Weeping Water, Nebraska, sighted in rifles and headed west to Lexington.

Upon our arrival we phoned Larry to let him know we were there and at 5:00am he met us in the parking lot of the hotel. Events were set in place that day, my life would change a bit, a memory forgiven, a friend lost.

Rifle season lasts nine days in Nebraska, Saturday to the following Sunday every year. Saturday and Sunday were spent hunting, asking permission and enjoying lunches. I believe that it was Monday afternoon that Larry had a doctors appointment, he had been suffering with some shoulder and neck pains and wanted to get it checked out. Tuesday was a down sort of day and Wednesday my world changed.

Early afternoon, three vehicles driving in convoy style, Larry in the lead, Jim riding behind, my brother and I bringing up the rear. Suddenly Larry, some 1/2 mile ahead slammed on his brakes and pointed out of his driver side window, my brother and I hustled up as fast as we could to see what we figured was a deer, it was. Unfortunately someone had poached it and left it lay. We all walked out to see it up close and while standing there Larry collapsed.

I can't tell you exactly what happened to him, I don't know, all I know is that all efforts to bring him back had failed and we lost him that day. It was a long ride to Larry's that night, we had to deliver his truck and hunting equipment to his wife along with the news. My brother and I decided it was best we told her to her face, a phone call just wasn't appropriate.

I remember driving along Interstate 80 west to the Hershey exit and seeing their house there along the maintenance road. All I could think was: this woman is about to have a bomb dropped on her and she doesn't even know it's coming.

The nights events took the usual course, we found our way back to our motel rooms, I found a moment of silence. Kathy has also since left us, she passed of Cancer shortly after we lost Larry. I think it notable that my father passed in Larry's chair and in some twisted circumstances I found my way back to hunt with Larry in a field miles from anywhere where he passed. Even Kathy said that it was meant to be.

As for my father, I had no advance warning so I wasn't there when he passed, maybe this was his way of sharing it with me. An opportunity to see that Larry was properly taken care of and treated with the respect that he deserved, just as he had done for my father. I thank God for the opportunity!

There is something at work in the human heart. A day I remember, 30 years later, a shared respect in death.

I still travel to Nebraska each year as an annual event, I have a passion for those lands. I'm anchored there. There is no reward in hunting success there for me, only in the hunt itself. It's who I am.

To Larry: Thank You, thank you for all that you did for my father and for the 20+ years you hunted with him in my absence.

To my Father: May the Roads rise up to meet you, may the winds be always at your back, may the rains fall lightly on your crops, until we meet again, May God Hold You and Keep You in the Palm of his hand.

God Bless......