This, the week of the Thanksgiving Holiday has been been a little more sentimental than usual. I'm not sure what drives this. There is no shortage of potential answers to that question given my current health circumstances, the time of year or other influence.
Jack Naperala passed away November 19th. When I was a youngster of 10 or so I started big game hunting with my Dad. Jack was my Dad's longtime hunting partner. Jack, Dad and I would leave town the day before our hunt in Jack's green 1968 ford truck to go off to some remote part of Arizona to pursue Deer or Javalina or whatever we were able to get drawn for.
I thought it was awsome to be one of the guys but sleeping on the vinyl front seat of a 1968 for truck in below freezing weather is not fun in any sense of the word. We often gravitated to the less popular areas where game tags were plentiful but success not so much. A lot has been made over the years of our "Success" rate. We still receive unyielding amounts of harassment from family and friends for our lack of contribution to the magament efforts of the Game and Fish department. All I can say is that "Success" in this context is a relative term. Given that I have been able to trade countless numbers of school days and subsequent work days to spend it outdoors bonding with my Dad and others in a way that many other people don't have an opportunity to experience is beyond compare. Jack was my hunting buddy too. Not the kind of buddy I would call if I had a flat tire unless I was in his neighborhood. Not someone I talked to about the politics of the day either. Our talks usually centered around where we were and where we were going tomorrow to stalk our prey. I am having trouble remembering the last time I even saw Jack but I am not sorry for it. Our time spent together was focused on the task at hand and we never left much room for anything else. I didn't know he was from Chicago or even that he had served in the Marines. I would have loved for him to tell me stories of either of those subjects. At the very least I would have been proud to have thanked him for his service. One day My Dad annouced that we were gong hunting with a different group. What about Jack", I replied.." "Jack decided not so hunt anymore" he said. Hmmph. Ok well where are we headed this time? Jack, I wish I would have taken the time to tell you that I enjoyed your company. I appreciated the talks we had around the campfire. I still remember the sesame crackers, baloney slices and tuna salad as hunting trip staples on the menu. Oh, dont' forget the tapioca pudding! You let me ask a thousand silly questions and never had a cross word or frustrated reply. You were one of the first to congratulate me on my successes and bust my ass when I acted like a bonehead. I liked that fact that you were always late. Not becauase I wanted to be late too but because it drove my Dad crazy and that it wasn't my fault. You were more than a hunting partner you were a role model and friend. Thank you and goodbye my old friend.
BTW- The new hunting partner guy is crabby and hates pickles so no tuna salad. It's been an adjustment to say the least.
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