On October 13th my dad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. He was only 68 years old and still worked every single day. No symptoms earlier, no shortness of breath or dizziness, just simply on his way to empty some garbage out of the work truck and boom. Dad was a veteran, a carpenter, a legionnaire, a fire fighter, he was also one of our towns biggest volunteers, whether it be at church, the legion, the fire hall or around town, he was the least selfish person I knew.
He was also the man that introduced me to the outdoors. As a little kid, I remember chasing behind the coon hounds at night. I remember shooting streaky gophers on back country roads. I remember my first trip with the Fire Fighters down in Whitewater deer hunting. I remember my first trip with dads buddies to Wyoming, chasing mule deer. I remember fishing all over the state, whether it was a local creek, Leech, Winnie, Mille Lac, Lake of the Woods, Faribault, Hayward WI. I remember all of this, because dad took me and my two brothers on all these trips and made sure we had fun doing it. He was my biggest influence into the outdoors by far. Dad was a farm kid growing up, I remember hearing that he would eat everything he shot or caught. Pigeons, squirrels, raccoon, river chubs, carp if dad had a hand in killing it, he ate it.
One story from long ago, dad was up at sunrise to go squirrel hunting with some buddies. Not sure if they shot any squirrels that day, but they did shoot a big ole boar raccoon. He had it skun out, cause you know, he had to cook it up. All mom saw was a “Giant” squirrel curled up in the kitchen sink. She was telling the story to her lady friends at card club later that night about the biggest darn squirrel she’d ever seen, only to have dad and his buddies falling out of their chairs in the other room. Dad didn’t just teach us the finer skills of being an outdoors man, he also taught us all the fun you get to have when the hunt is over. Pickled eggs and beer down at Mauer Brothers, toasting with Black Berry Brandy out in Wyoming after a kill and drinking beers in the fish shack after a good day on the water. I had the good fortune to try and start to pay dad back for all of this with a guided elk/muley hunt in Western MT a few years ago. Neither of us filled a tag, but we had a ton of stories and beautiful country to remember and talk about when we came home. We still had our fun after the hunt was done as well 
This past Saturday was my first sit since his passing. My mom and my wife both said, go hunt. It’s been a long week and we all needed our quiet time. To be honest it wasn’t much of a hunt that day. The winds were blowing hard and bringing in a pretty good storm that evening and I found myself second guessing whether I should shoot or not shoot if something presented itself. If tracking would have been needed, it wouldn’t be good. Needless to say, I had a lot of time to dwell on all of these memories and worry/wonder about life without dad. How will mom be, how will my brothers and their families be, how will my family and myself be. I remembered too, what if I do shoot a deer, now who is going to get the first call???? But I also remembered a phrase that dad often spoke. “Don’t Panic”, that was dad’s catch phrase, his motto, his mantra. All these questions will answer themselves soon enough, sitting and fretting about them won’t do any of us any good. The day of dad’s passing I also remember that I said something to my grandma about “I Wish” and she stopped me in my tracks. She said, you cannot go around wondering and regretting anything in this life, that will only consume you. Just remember all the great times, all the teachings, all the ways he lived. That is what dad always did and that is what he wanted everyone else to do. So, I tried to just enjoy the moment and enjoy the wonders of the outdoor world. I know I have my families fullest support to extend my outdoor experiences, and I know that my son already loves being out there, so the legacy does live on.
Thanks Dad, I Love You and Miss You. No Regrets
