The Deer Stand

Matthew will be able to hunt with me again this year after a long, four season absence. It seems like even longer than that when I think back to our last time together for the regular gun deer season.

Matthew likes to sit beside me in the woods. I have offered to split up from him to help us cover more territory and minimize our impact on a given hunting area, but he always prefers to stay together. We used to sit on the ground; leaning side by side against a giant oak. I bought a ladder stand after he left for college that allowed me to hunt from an elevated platform. The view is vastly different from fifteen feet up and the potential for shooting opportunities seems to go up along with the height.

My ladder stand is big enough for me, but not my gear; which I had to strap to the tree behind the stand. There is no way we could create enough space for Matthew and me together this year, so we decided to get a two-man stand to hunt this year. I bought a two-man ladder stand at a local store but quickly returned it after determining that the manufacturer's idea of two men and our idea of two men were vastly different. The materials seemed flimsy and the platform would have been extremely tight. We decided, instead, to build our own platform stand.

I found plans online and made a few, minor modifications to fulfill my personal requirement to over-engineer and overbuild every project I undertake. We bought all of the lumber, fasteners and assorted hardware for the project and spent less money than we would have spent on the fancy, smaller commercial stand and went to work.

Matthew has an uncanny ability to be gone when I undertake some of my projects, so I cut everything when he was off doing something. He was there to help assemble part of the support legs and lower platform, but Diane has provided most of the construction help. She works hard, but she simply is not as strong as Matthew. We're getting it done, though.

I expect to finish the construction within the next couple of days so we can assemble the pieces in our yard to test it out. We'll do whatever tweaking is necessary with the luxury of electricity close at hand before we break it down into its four main pieces to head to the farm to erect it on our hunting ground.

Erecting the stand in place is going to require several people. Finding willing workers has been the hardest part of this entire project. At some point in the next couple of weeks, though, we will trailer everything up, make our way to the farm and get everything set for the opening of deer season on November 23.

When The Rubber Hits The Road...

Our paths cross lots of friendly people. Many of them we would even call friends. Some of them will go so far as to tell you to call them if you need anything. Few, though, really live that out When The Rubber Hits The Road.

True friends shine when life is in its dark moments. The ones who really are there for you when you're not fun to be with. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they just listen. It's not by their words that they show you they care; their caring shows through their life. Even though the course of our lives may cause us to drift apart; the moments of caring are never far from our memory.

There are two people in particular who I think of when I think about people who really cared when it mattered. Nearly three decades have passed, but their acts of kindness still remind me of how a true friend shows they care.

To set the scene briefly, I was doing freelance video production work. The work could be somewhat irregular, but I was always glad to have a day scheduled. One job that I will never forget was the Camtronics shoot. I had two days of work scheduled; which meant two days of pay. It promised to be a fun shoot; which meant lots of setups and some challenging shooting situations. 

Two days before the shoot, I came home from work to find much of my apartment cleaned out, my cat gone and only a note from Sally saying, "I'm sorry," left behind. She had left me and filed for divorce. I was crushed. I told no one other than Sally's parents who loaned me a car since we only had one which she had taken with her.

I showed up at Camtronics for the shoot even though I was in no condition to work. Ralph, the Director, and Colleen, the Producer, (who later fell in love and got married, but that's a different story entirely) noticed my demeanor. Ralph took me aside and asked what was going on. I poured out my heart to him. He told me I didn't have to work if I would rather not be there. I told him that I needed to work.

They let me stay. 

I was absolutely worthless on that shoot. I'm sure I cost the crew much time and many retakes because of my distracted state.

But they let me stay.

Ralph and Colleen told me I could talk if I wanted to talk or just be quiet if I wanted to be quiet. They didn't pry and they didn't coddle me. They were just there When The Rubber Hit The Road.

When I look back over the decades, I am reminded that the friends who really care for you aren't the ones who tell you to call if you need anything. True friends are the ones who let you stay When The Rubber Hist The Road...

You Divide, I Pick

Few things in this world can start an argument faster than two people wanting the last piece of something. The problem is exacerbated when those two people are siblings.

It really doesn't matter if it's the last piece of pie or the last serving of potatoes; an argument is almost certain to start. Mom and Dad, like many parents, had a simple solution to the problem. It was simply named, "You Divide, I Pick."

The name says it all. The trick was to be the one who called it out first. Everyone wanted to be the picker, not the divider. Being the divider simply brought too much pressure.

Debbie, Kim, Beth and I were forced to endure You Divide, I Pick many times through the years. The divider analyzed whatever was to be divided very carefully - looking at it from every possible angle - trying to find a way to ensure that it would be divided exactly in half.

I'm sure I would have employed calipers and a scale if they were available, so careful was I to prevent any of the girls from getting a bigger portion; even if  the difference was miniscule. Dividing was a major task; one that required great concentration and analysis. This invariably led to pressure to hurry up and divide.

Picking could be equally daunting, though, if the divider had done a good job. The picker was obligated, of course, to carefully determine which was the "bigger half" (a physical impossibility, I know) before making their selection. This invariably led to pressure to hurry up and pick.

In the long run, You Divide, I Pick was brilliant. We learned some important lessons from You Divide, I Pick. It helped us learn to deal fairly and properly with others. It also taught us to practice math and spatial relationship skills we never even realized we were using. Perhaps most of all, though, You Divide, I Pick taught us how to apply our knowledge and skills to real life applications.

I'm not sure about most people, but to me; that is the definition of wisdom.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

The Waiting Is The Worst

Five weeks seems like a long time.

Five weeks.

Thirty-five days.

Eight hundred and fifty two and one-half hours from the time this entry posts.

That's a very long time when waiting for what ranks among the best days of the year. I speak, of course, of the St. Louis Blues regular season opener.

Almost all other activities in our home will take a backseat on the evening of October 3rd to the puck dropping on the new season. While I love the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball Club; even they can't compare to the passion I have for St. Louis Blues Hockey.

It seems like such a long time ago that we were eliminated from the playoffs; dashing my hopes once and for all of this being "The Year" for us to hoist the coveted Stanley Cup. Last year is behind us now. The moment the puck touches the ice on October 3rd provides renewed hope that this will truly be "The Year."

I am ready.

There is nothing left for me to do but wait.

The waiting is the worst...

Reflection

My birthday came and went earlier this week. I make it a point to ignore my birthday; not out of some false sense of pride about growing older, but because my birthday can never live up to my past.

I was born on Dad's 27th birthday.

An only son born to an only son.

The one who would carry on the Brader name.

All kids love their birthdays, but mine were extra special because they were a day I shared with Dad. Birthdays were something to be celebrated together; an only son sharing the special day with his only son.

Dad and I always looked at the Cardinals' schedule and picked a baseball game to attend for our birthday celebration. We picked doubleheaders whenever there was one close to the actual day. We bought cheap seats way up near the top of the old Busch Stadium where we watched the game, ate hot dogs and shared a root beer.

We also went to IHOP on the Saturday closest to our birthday to get hot fudge sundaes together. We told the waitress about our shared birthday and she always brought the sundaes with a candle in the top of each one. They didn't make a big show of our birthday like restaurants do today; it was just a simple candle in recognition of our special day.

Birthdays were something to be celebrated together; an only son sharing the special day with his only son.

Dad left us far too soon. Mom tried to make my 13th birthday special, but nothing she could do would be able to replace the gaping hole left by Dad's death. For years I put on outward appearances for Mom; after all, it was a birthday she struggled with, too, I'm sure. Eventually, though, I just did away with appearances and tried to let my birthday pass like any other day. It still hurt inside, but I did my best to ignore it all and move on.

That all changed once Diane and the boys were in the picture. While I still wish I could just ignore the day; they want to celebrate my birthday. So I go through the motions. It's not the same, though, because birthdays were something to be celebrated together; an only son sharing the special day with his only son.

Return of an Old Friend...

My Monday morning walk with Sadie was a special day. It marked the first time this season that I have been able to see the constellation Orion in the morning sky.

Orion is my favorite constellation. Its appearance in the Northern Hemisphere is a harbinger of the coming of Winter; and the multitude of hunting opportunities it brings with it.

I was able to see constellations in the predawn sky for the first time in a long time Monday morning. It is that time of the year that the nights grow longer and the darkness refuses to unleash its hold on the Earth until later into each morning. It is that time of the year that I can once again marvel at the beauty of the Creation that is our Universe.

I realize that I am one of the few people who yearns for the days each year when sunlight is at its shortest and the darkness is long. I love those few days each year when I drive both to and from work in darkness.

Orion's reappearance reminds me that those days are drawing near. Even the forecast of a miserably hot and humid day could not dampen the excitement that came with my first glimpse of Orion in the Eastern sky. 

Soon, our planet's annual pilgrimage around the sun will allow Orion to rule the night. It is then that I will revel in the long, dark, cold nights of a Wisconsin Winter.

Welcome back, Orion! I have missed you.

A Week At Nana and Papa's!!!

There was always something special about my week at Nana and Papa's house. I have no idea what the girls did on their week, but my week was pretty much the best week of the summer.

Nana and I typically spent one day shopping at either at Maplewood or Hampton Village. A trip to Maplewood invariably included a stop for a hot dog at the Woolworth's lunch counter. Other than that outing, most of my outings were much more fun for Nana, I'm sure.

One of my favorite activities was riding the bus downtown to play on the USS Inaugural minesweeper moored at the riverfront. Nana and I spent hours cranking the antiaircraft guns to shoot down the helicopters that flew overhead, or prowling through the depths of the ship. Nana patiently went along; even climbing the ladders between the various decks.

We also spent at least a couple of afternoons on the abandoned bridge at the end of Flyer Avenue that looked out over the Frisco Railroad yard. Nana brought a lawn chair and her crochet bag and sat there crocheting for hours as I watched the switching engines in the yard build and move trains in preparation for their journeys to who knows where.

Yes, Nana and I had a wonderful time during my week with them. I'm sure she enjoyed the outings with me much more than the girlie things she did with Debbie, Kim and Beth.

Nana always had lunch ready for all of us so we were ready to eat at precisely 12:05 when Papa got home for his half-hour lunch break each day. Papa ate lunch and headed back to work while Nana and I got back to our important activities like watching trains, playing Wiffle ball in the back yard or practicing my flycasting as Sammy the cat chased the line around the yard.

Yes, I'm sure Nana enjoyed my week there much more than a week with any of the girls. The girls probably slept in in the morning and shopped a lot - except for Debbie, of course, who probably sat and read most of the time during her week at Nana and Papa's!

One of the best parts of my week with Nana and Papa was the nightly visits to Wilmore Park to go fishing. Nana packed sandwiches, chips and cans of Vess sodas for our dinner and we left as soon as Papa cleaned up after work and headed to the park for an evening of fishing. Papa normally took a lawn chair and the newspaper. Nana took a lawn chair and her crochet bag. I fished until the gathering darkness sent us back to the car to head back home for the night.

Papa and I watched television together while Nana cleaned up from the picnic. Most nights, Papa and I took that opportunity to "secretly" munch on Indian brand Corn Chips. Papa wasn't supposed to have them because the salt set off his Gout, but that never seemed to stop him during my week there.

Yes, as I think back on it, spending a week with Nana and Papa was the highlight of the summer. I'm sure they were thrilled to pick me up to start my week with them and I'm sure they were equally thrilled to drop me off at the end of the week. Probably not as thrilled as they were to drop off the girls, though...