Fathers and Mentors

As with most northeasters we woke up to about a foot so snow this morning, there's another foot on it's way. I can't say that it's Richard Proenneke kind of snow, but it's a blizzard for New Jersey. First Things First: the dog has a trail to follow to her favorite early morning spot.

I sat down this morning wondering what today would bring. It's my intention to sit and relax, not much to do with the snow still falling. Nanny and Poppy have groceries enough to last a few days, there's no construction going on due to the weekend: and snow. My money says that Wendy will come up with something. In my opinion it's a good day to sit and enjoy my custom arrows and Leon Stewart bow, not sure that would be Wendy's opinion.

I often think of my father on days like this, wearing his bib Carhart overalls with Remington 1100 in hand on his the way to the truck. I'm sure that a duck or a pheasant could be found if one looked just a bit. Headed into town for some gas and milk, mostly just to sit at the diner and visit with the others. Who are the others you ask? There's a whole lot of folk just like my dad in central Nebraska, no surprises there. Put on the coffee and they will come!

I take great care in my thinking when it comes to nostalgia. Proper memory is needed to truly feel the days of yore. Standing in the driveway waiting for dad to unlock the door of his Ford Bronco so I could mount up and head out for some looking. I'm not sure what others were doing however on snowy days like this I spent most of my time looking and very little time actually hunting.

I still find time for some "looking". There's nothing more fulfilling to me than taking a ride in the country, as country as New Jersey gets, and just looking to see what I can see. A time to reminisce I guess, to relive that which can not be relived.

Lately I've spent some time talking to some High School friends and acquaintances on Facebook. Some will read this post possibly so I'll apologize up front, nothing is meant by my following statement; I'm not sure that it's been all that good for me to have went back in time via the Internet like that. People that I remember don't have a clue who I am, others remember me in ways, well, I'd rather not be remembered in. Old memories have surfaced, mostly good, a few well let's just call them memories. I think to some point that it has only strengthened my feelings about not being able to go back.

There is one person of note that I'm going to mention outright: Don McKee. Mr. McKee as I will always know him was my science teacher in Jr. High. You would think that in a small town like Overton Nebraska the need or desire to learn Science would be near the bottom of the learning priority list and the mere meaning of the word "why". Why would you worry about Science in a small farming community where the focus is on crops and will it be a good or bad year? Mr McKee transcends all of that, a firm hand and an open heart! All that I would want to be when I grow up.

Teachers most often stand out for what they do outside of curriculum. Mr McKee was no different. Although I've only graced his door infrequently, combined with being one of the lesser Science students you could conger up, I was welcome when I did appear! There has been no less than a thousand times that I thought of him while amidst a tough time or decision over the years. A lasting impression to say the least!

For all that my father did wrong, for all that he lacked in not being able to fulfill my selfish desires, for all that I can fault him for should I choose to inventory said things; I could just never thank my father enough for having raised me in Overton Nebraska. The gifts that often go unseen are there for the taking. It sometimes takes years for us to see them. Don McKee was one of those gifts. I'll forever remember you: Don McKee.

Nostalgia is a double edged sword to say the least. Remembering is a good thing at my age, but it's certain memories that I sometimes wish would go away.

I do so long for the simpler times, a time when I could walk 3 miles into town and no one ever mentioned or worried about a stranger and the harm that one could bring. Doors were left open on warm summer days, pickup windows down with rifles in the back window gun racks. Kids laughing, few crying. There were no doubt worries and strains, tears behind closed doors however there were more mentors then there were bothered children. There seems to always be an adult near by that one could find comfort with.

As I look back I find the very examples of what I'd like to be when I grow up however mostly I'm just thankful that they were there. To all who would teach: teach not to a grade but to a life, for each child will grow one day to be someone and your someone too! To Don McKee I say "Thank You", thank you for making me feel welcome in your world even today, from a scraggly little runt of a kid in small town USA.

To my father who dawned not a book nor a classroom your lessons of life have gotten me through! A rough road at times however never has there been a bump or mountain that I couldn't get over. May God Bless, more than he already has!