Happy 30th!

I am fully aware that we are still in close proximity to my last blog which included a portion about funny T-shirts but my good friend Mike showed up to hang out last night sporting a great one. Its appeal was furthered by the fact that he drew, designed and had it made himself. I am not a HUGE Star Wars fan (I submit the fact that I am married with a child as proof), but I tend to appreciate good material regardless of the subject. Witness the greatness of The Coach:



This graphic is across the front with a large rebellion logo on the back. I know that you will all be relieved to know that you do not have to endlessly search the web for this item. Follow the link to The Coaches blog if you are dying to own one for yourself. I'm sure he would be glad to give you a sizable discount.

Talking Turkey, Part II

In a previous post I extolled the virtues of turkey season over other game seasons mostly on the basis of being able to gear-up completely without the depressingly un-sneaky blaze orange. I also bring up the challenge of hunting mountain Merriam's with the following passage:

The Merriam's turkey that we have in the Colorado mountains is a wily prey. Their eyesight is extremely good, their hearing is sharp and we are only helped by their lack of a keen sense of smell. Additionally, they are very sensitive to hunting pressure and though not intelligent, are instinctively suspicious. When you consider these traits and the fact that they are physically tough and nearly impervious to shots outside of 40 yards (sometimes inside this distance as well), it is not surprising that as we enter my 4th spring turkey season, I have yet to be successful.

And that was true until this past Saturday at roughly 9am. Hunting with Marshall (and wish Timmy could have joined us) we had hiked about 4 mountainous miles when our joking brought out a gobble from a moderately distant hillside. I must be honest and say that with my lips flapping, I did not hear the first call. We waited silently and heard a follow-up gobble. Quickly we geared back up (we were mostly out of our overly-warm outer camo layers) and crept up to the crest of the hill to sit under 2 trees roughly 20 years apart. Marshall had earlier told me that he wanted me to have first shot so he was calling and I was patiently waiting to see if the strutter would come closer and from what direction. A long story made short, through MP's aggressive and realistic calling, 2 gobblers traveled upwards of a mile over steep terrain to get at the foxy hen they were hearing. I took the first with one mystery shot (even after processing the animal we were unable to discover how I killed it) and after slight panic, Marshall took the second with 4 shots (it was a dead turkey walking after the 2nd, but we didn't really know how to deal with its ability to stay on its feet).

It was no more than 6-7 minutes between our successes - meaning Marshall's was pretty close at the time I fired - which is completely contrary to what we understood about turkeys wily nature (see excerpt above). It was one the coolest feeling to finally be a turkey hunter (vs. someone who hikes with a turkey gun), made that much more special because I got share it with Marshall. We tossed the big birds on our backs and hiked the grueling 3+ miles out to the truck.

I know not all of you are excited to see dead animals and are not big fans of hunting so I apologize for the slightly gory picture: it was the best photo I have of both birds.

Cam-o

I am starting this post early to make sure they are of a higher quality than my standard musings. I find that this venue is good for conveying the respect, good wishes and affection felt for loved ones. It is more transferable and permanent than a card, not to mention more heartfelt. I know that Campbell will likely not be able to read this for at least 6-7 years and probably won't really understand the sentiment for another decade or so (by which time I doubt this blog will still exist), but I need to write this for me.

As of Tuesday, April 24th of this year, Campbell Kelly will have been with us for a full year. Fatherhood has proved to be everything I hoped it would be. That is certainly not to say that it has been easy; it has not. I have a very hard time being anything approaching sensitive or caring when I am sleep deprived. I am willing to do a lot of fathering during the day of which I am literally incapable between 10pm and 6am. Midnight sobbing parties - sometimes by all participants(see Mike's blog) - aside, I have been blessed to see the advancements that this little fella continues to make on a daily basis. At this point my favorites are:

1. He shakes his head "no" vigorously when asked if he's crazy (or when he's a good mood, when asked just about anything).
2. He has fallen in love with motor vehicles of all kinds and makes something like a motor noise whenever he gets excited about cars and trucks.
3. Starting this past Tuesday, when I show up after having been away all day, he will (only once) say "Daddy" when he sees me.
4. He finds Diesel hilarious pretty much under any circumstance.

This list cannot be comprehensive as he learns something new every day at this point, particularly in the arena of communication. Last night while playing with his tractor, long-time friend Katie asked if it was a diesel (based on his version of a engine noise). Without looking up from his toy, he promptly repeated "diesel"(though it sounds more like "dees"). Of course, this is not because he was mimicking Katie but because it's our dog's name, which he's been using for weeks now.

I have no problem saying that I have become a better person through the past year and by God's grace, I hope to become the father that Campbell needs as he continues to grow and mature. In an earlier post I mention that I am worried that he will be like me. I have to believe that since every father knows himself best - to the dark core - it is only right to feel this way. I ask all of you that see or speak with me on a regular basis to help me to be the man that he needs. I know that a few of the people that read this have learned their families will be expanding soon and I hope that I can encourage you in the same way. Daddies of the world unite!!!

Forgive me for bringing it up...

I debated making any kind of statement today about the VA Tech shooting yesterday, but I decided that I must. This situation has given those who dislike America an opportunity to criticize us for what they perceive to be ridiculously lax gun control laws. Speigel Online International does a great job of collecting the reactions from around Europe to this tragedy and I am slightly disgusted by the lack of respect (and in many cases obvious misrepresentation of our laws). In most of the selections there is an overriding sense of "they had it coming." I liked how Michale Medved put it yesterday: Why would it help to make guns illegal? Murder is illegal and that didn't seem to make any difference for those poor, terrified kids in Virginia.

Regardless of your stance on gun issues, let's at least wait a few days before we start flinging mud.

If any of you feel that it is in bad taste to write about the political fallout so soon, please let me know. I covet your opinions and respect most of you.

The Coach, The Man, The Mike

I have made it a habit to post about the people I care about on their birthdays and I started this post on Friday in preparation for the birthday of one of my oldest and best friends. And not just any birthday - his 30th birthday. Michael Richard Pollard and I began our friendship as the sons of fellow Air Force Academy graduates. Our parents forced us together as 6-7 year-olds, probably with the intention of giving us a "controllable" friendship. At first, we sort of fought this intrusion on our circle-of-friends sovereignty, but we developed what could be called a mutual respect (correct me if I'm wrong, Mike).

Mike was little for his age and always smaller than me-despite is advantage in years-but made up for it with a feistiness that is hard for me to describe to those who didn't know him then. He would not back down to anyone (he is identified by name in an earlier post about supporting your boys) and even as a child I respected this. In true brotherly fashion we competed against all comers, but also against each other. I had the size (I haven't grown since middle school) but he had the temper, speed and passion. We made the perfect team as no one wanted to mess with the devious little fiend or his big friend who had no concept of consequences.

He was my consistent friend. As I changed classmates each school year and my school "crowd" fluctuated, I always had Mike for backyard baseball and football, shooting BB guns at anything we could find and exploring the mysterious "backwoods" of Air Force Academy base housing. I stayed with him for days when it was too snowy to go home or when my family was having troubles (thanks to Mr. and Mrs. P for keeping me).

As we got to high school, our relationship evolved with our lives. Mike discovered music and I devoted myself to sports. He learned guitar, bass, piano, drums and the pan flute (though I don't think I have ever seen him play one). I learned that I would never have any musical talent, no matter how hard I practiced. I recall Mike once observed that one of the things he liked about he was that when we sang (at church or to a song on the radio), I would frequently harmonize to him on accident. Even though his goal was to be funny and it wasn't a complementary statement, he knew me well enough that I laughed right along with everyone.

Changing interests didn't stop our competition, it just tweaked it a little. We still competed over girls or rally racing our twin Dodge Colts or whatever might come up. He kissed my first girlfriend before I did and we did take swings at each other in the middle a basketball game (also nominally over a girl). The strength of our friendship is born out by the fact that we were soon able to laugh over these and we are still very close today. The first time I drove without parents was in his nasty old Volvo. He went to my sporting events and I watched him showcase his musical/theatrical talents (he made a great 11 year-old at a high school rendition of "The Sound of Music"). I was part of his surprise proposal and engagement party for Stephanie and we were the best men at each other's wedding. We have become like uncles to each other's sons and in-laws to each other's wives.

Since this post is getting long enough that I am approaching the point where people may not take the time to read it, I will conclude this walk down memory lane. Mike Pollard is a great coach, a great friend, a great husband, a great dad and a great man. I am a better man for having grown up with him and for his influence in my life today. We are close enough that I can tell him anything and he's wise enough enough to kick my butt when I need it. He is in the circle of men that I trust implicitly.

If you read this blog but not his, I recommend that you avail yourself of his wit and wisdom. I promise it will brighten your day and inform your life. Happy Birthday, Mike!