Pap

Dallas, a/k/a Pap, a/k/a Old Man. I have really great memories of my papaw. Memories are all I have now, so I cherish them closely. I have regrets too. Regrets of not spending enough time with him through the years. But I always go to my memories when I get that way. Sitting out back at his place cracking walnuts under the tree. I’m not sure who enjoyed that more, me or the squirrels. Walking out back and picking pears off his tree and eating them, standing there with juice running down my chin.

But one of my favorite memories isn’t even mine, it’s my husband’s. I never had the privilege of going hunting with Pap (that’s one of those regrets), but Pete did. They went turkey hunting one season. They got all the way up to Pap’s place and got settled in. Pete asked Pap where his turkey call was. You see where this is going don’t you? Pap said he thought Pete had brought it. Pete said he thought Pap had brought it. So…needless to say no turkey was harmed that day! But I laugh every time Pete tells me how Pap made gobble noises sitting there in the woods.

And you know Pete knows how much I need that memory.  At our NWTF banquet, he won a box call.  Later that night, he showed me where he was going to put it.  He put it up by Pap’s picture “so he will always have a call with him now.”

 

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