Scratch That

It only took me 8 weeks to figure out that the reason I was having so many anxiety attacks while I was recovering from my broken ankle surgery was the darn pain meds. Last Friday I kept one of my dear friends up until 3:00am becuase I was freaking out for no reason, and over the 7 weeks prior to that, I have spent many nights medicated because of similar issues.
Well I have not taken any pain medication for my healing ankle since last Friday and my nights have been wonderful. No crazy dreams. No pacing. No up and down from the sofa to the chair and then back again.
It was simply the hydrocodone that was doing it and to be honest with you, it is much easier living with a little pain and getting a good night sleep than it is to take that stuff. It is no wonder so many kids are into those prescription drugs. Not only did that particular medication take away the pain, but it made me so restless. It gave me dreams like I have never experienced, and then when it was combined with the anxiety meds needed to deal with the side affects, it pretty much made me a zombie.
Oh sure, most people like to escape once in awhile but that is ridiculous. Put that stuff in the hands of a minor, or an adult for that matter, who is not strong enough, or wise enough to deal with life head on and you are asking for a problem.
I still had 11 doses left and they are now in the trash. Not for me. BAAAADDD NEWS!
On a lighter note, I have begun working out and training for my Michigan Coast to Coast for a Cure fund raiser, Pedal and Paddle to Fight Cancer. I made some major changes in my eating and began paddling my kayak and using my Total Gym and I feel great. 321 days from now we will see just how serious I was in preparing.
If you would like to know more about my fundraiser check out my blog at
www.micoast2coast4acure.blogspot.com, or go to my facebook page Pedal and Paddle to Fight Cancer, or hit my website www.michigancoast2coast4acure.webs.com.

A Proud Day for Dad

With the youth deer hunting weekend now upon us I am reminded of a day several years ago when I took my oldest son, Matthew, and my nephew, Billy, out for the youth deer hunt. My son was not 14 yet so he was restricted to using a bow and arrow, whereas my nephew was 15 so he was allowed to carry a rifle. I had placed two treestands in a nice white pine tree in the middle of a funnel of mixed pine and hardwoods crossing a field between two oak ridges. I had taken many deer in the past from this same tree and figured it would be a great place for the boys to at least see some deer. I placed third stand in another pine tree just 10 yards away. My son and I sat in the tree with 2 stands while my nephew sat in the single stand.
Action was slow for the first couple hours of our afternoon/evening hunt. Aside from the pesky redsquirrel that seems to bark at every deer hunter, the woods seemed lifeless until about 1 hour before dark. As if from no where a deer suddenly appeared just 30 yards away. Matthew and I could see it but it was hidden from my nephews view. We could see right away that it was a decent little spike horn and would be a great trophy for either of the young hunters. We slowly motioned for my Billy to be still and watch, as the deer made its' way directly toward us.
The young buck made a steady walk, on a straight line toward my son and I, closeing the gap to just 10 yards. My nephew was watching the whole time just waiting for Matthew to release an arrow. What my Billy did not realize was that the little spike horn never offered a decent broadside shot for my son to place an arrow. Then came one of the proudest moments of my life.
My son leaned over and whispered to me, " I can not get a shot so why don't we let Billy shoot him?"
Even though the buck was in easy range, my son understood the angle was wrong and that it was actually perfect for his cousin to place an easy shot with the rifle right behind the deers' shoulder.
"Are you sure?" I asked my son, surprised at his maturity and responsiblity in the situation.
"Yep" he replied, and we motioned for Billy to take him.
No more was needed to be said and a shot came instantly from my nephews' tree. A perfect shot put the buck on the ground just 15 yards from where it stood when my nephew pulled the trigger.

Tip: Teaching a young hunter that it is all about the hunt and not about the kill will instill a sense of respect for the game and responsible hunting in their future.
It is the hunt that makes the kill special.
Not the kill that makes the hunt special.

Like a Kid Again

My anxiety level is slowly rising, but it is a good anxiety. Saturday is the opening day of the youth waterfowl and is a day I have looked forward to since my oldest son turned 12 nine years ago. It is a day that is for the kids, all about the kids, and feeling like a kid once again. As the sun rises tomorrw, and our gear is loaded, my son Bryan and I will head north about 50 miles. He will get to play hookie from school tomorrow and spend the day with me at work. I am sure much of the days conversations will revolve around duck and goose hunting.
The day will drag on, seeming endless, much like today is. Tomorrow evening will be one of the longest nights of the year for both of us. Nothing to do but wait. Wait for the 4:30am alarm to sound. Getting dressed in our hunting gear and firing up the grill for fresh grilled breakfast burritos and some sweet rolls that my friend Matt and his niece will be bringing.
Matt and Jordyn will be making a 1 hour drive in the early hours of the predawn morning to meet us for breakfast and the excitement of the opening morning of youth waterfowl hunting. With this being my sons third season and Jordyns second, both kids are well aware of the fact that it will be an exciting morning. Our kayak and canoe paddle in the darkness, trying to avoid getting stuck on one of the hundreds of stumps that fill the reservoir, is always exciting. It is a trek across the lake that often stirs the resident Canada Geese into a few early morning groans. There will be hundreds of ducks and only a few kids, scattered with their adult partners, throughout several square miles of prime waterfowl habitat. Our kids know that when the first hen mallard makes her single "quack" wake up call, the sky will soon awaken with the sounds and sight of ducks from every direction.
Woodducks, literally hundreds of woodducks. Teal, both blue winged and green winged. Mallards, young and old. The possible Redhead, pintail,scaup, or widgeon. And of course, the great Canada Goose. Both Bryan and Jordyn are familiar with the speed at which the little butterball woodducks can zip into, and then instantly, away from the decoys. The flying v wedge of the seemingly supersonic teal is a sight to behold as they buzz by the decoys just to take a glance and be gone, down the lake shore, only to make a big sweeping turn and zip by to take another quick peek at our spread. Once in awhile those little speed demons will drop into the decoys on the first or second pass, but if they are close enough on the fly by "cut em", or "take em" come in a quick shout from Matt or I, in an attempt to get one of the youngsters on the birds and fire a shot before they feathered f14s disappear.
The sound of Canadian honkers waking at sunrise and taking to the air, heading for their morning feeding grounds, will send chills down my spine. Hopefully, a couple hours later, when the geese return from feeding, we can coax them into a small spread of goose decoys and one of the kids can bring down their first goose. Neither my son Bryan or my friends niece Jordyn has taken a goose. I can see the excitement in them just from their body language whenever we hear geese. They are like the 747 Jumbo airliners when it comes to waterfowl, and though they are somewhat slow, they are not always easy to fool, and even harder to bring down.
As I write this my heart races from sentence to sentence as if I were there, holding the gun myself. Having been in these scenarios several times while hunting, I know first hand what a rush it is. I know what it is like to pull the trigger and see that first waterfowl of the season tumble from the sky. It might be the first shot of the season or the 21st shot of the season, either way it is a great feeling. I love the hunt, but I have come to love the childrens hunt even more.
As adults, we are not allowed to have a gun in possession this weekend and yet I am probably more excited then I ever am when it is my time to hunt. It is for the kids, and it is such a wonderful feeling to introduce them to the great outdoors and be there to share in memories that they will never forget.

We'll Meet Again

I was just a child when we first met. You were no more than an infant. 3rd grade for me in a new school and a new neighborhood and you not old enough to remember much of it. Your older sisters and I grew to become good friends while you were still just a happy go lucky, yet sometimes pesty little girl. Then came the end of my 7th grade year and we were moving again, but this time it was not just to another part of town, it was hours apart, and there was a heaviness in my heart.
Over our 4 years as neighbors our families had become like one family. Though you were the youngest, I never forgot you or your brother and sisters. I ofter wondered what you were up to. How was school going for all of you. Always wishing and praying that life was treating you well. A dozen years past yet you were all still in my heart.
One day, in my early 20s, my new wife and I decide to move to the Florida Keys and we were once again neighbors of sorts. Though we were not next door neighbors, Key Largo was small enough that we were able to stay in touch on a fairly regular basis and get reaquainted. Yes the years had changed all of us but you were still that little girl I new in Fenton. It was like being at home all over again and my other family was back in my life. Yet,once again, it was for all to short of a period.
In 1989 my oldest son was born in Key West, and Dawn and I decided it was time to move back to Michigan and raise our kids as we had been raised. I have again thought many times over the past 20 years about how you all are. From time to time, one of you would just pop into my head, without explanation, and I would ponder what your lives might be like. Did you all now have kids? Were there any grandkids for you? What each of you was doing for a living? Did you still have that curly, sandy blonde hair and like to pester your older sisters?
Just about a week ago I thought why not look on Facebook to see if I could locate any of you. Then the day before yesterday I log onto my FB account and see a message from your sister Tonya. She was just wanting my parents to get ahold of your father. I was so excited to hear from her that I probably over loaded her with questions and my personal information. 20 years had past and it was to long, I wanted to know everything.
Shortly after sending Tonya the message, I received one of the most heart breaking messages I have ever received.
You were no longer with us.
I did not want to believe it and still don't.
Why?
You were such a wonderful person. Although I did not know you much as an adult it is hard for me to believe that you could have done so wrong to have your life ended so short.
I cried that night, and again last night, and will again.
My heart is heavy for you and your family.
I pray you have found a better place.
You, Traci, are in my prayers and I will always remeber you.
I will see you again some day my friend.