They do not make his kind anymore

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Logan52

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Just got in from visiting my uncle. He was released from the hospital to Hospice due to a bone infection. He is 95 years old and went turkey hunting last spring and took a big eight point buck last fall.
He was born and raised on land explored and settled on by his ancestor, in three lines, in the late 1700s. Until recently, the title to this land had never been out of our family. His grandfather was part of a family that developed a strain of burley tobacco in the 1880s that is still known today. They developed a tobacco seed business that was very successful.

He grew up during the depression and did not get an education, but is one of the smartest men I ever knew. He made his living as a tenant farmer in tobacco, only purchasing his own farm later in life. He knew all the tricks of making money in tobacco and I learned a lot from him back in the1980s when we farmed together.

What a conversation we had. We talked about how slow the grass was coming in. We talked about deer, turkeys and the condition of local streams, just not the haven for smallmouth bass they once were. We talked about the old home place, about daughters and grandkids.

What a loss to our part of the world when his memories grow silent. I ask you think of him in a kindly way.
 
Just got in from visiting my uncle. He was released from the hospital to Hospice due to a bone infection. He is 95 years old and went turkey hunting last spring and took a big eight point buck last fall.
He was born and raised on land explored and settled on by his ancestor, in three lines, in the late 1700s. Until recently, the title to this land had never been out of our family. His grandfather was part of a family that developed a strain of burley tobacco in the 1880s that is still known today. They developed a tobacco seed business that was very successful.

He grew up during the depression and did not get an education, but is one of the smartest men I ever knew. He made his living as a tenant farmer in tobacco, only purchasing his own farm later in life. He knew all the tricks of making money in tobacco and I learned a lot from him back in the1980s when we farmed together.

What a conversation we had. We talked about how slow the grass was coming in. We talked about deer, turkeys and the condition of local streams, just not the haven for smallmouth bass they once were. We talked about the old home place, about daughters and grandkids.

What a loss to our part of the world when his memories grow silent. I ask you think of him in a kindly way.
Tell every story he has to every younger person you can, and make them good retellings. They'll get retold again, I promise. And you'll make good ones too, and they'll get told and retold. They don't make anything like they used to, but everything gets a comeback, maybe we can try and be it.
 
The thing that I fear most with the old folks going away is not losing the stories, advice, etc but losing the things that they were keeping alive. I've got two hound pups I'm working with right now, but I don't know a half a dozen people who do any real hunting with dogs anymore under the age of 45, at least not close by. I used to fish all the time, drift fishing, bank fishing, night time crappie fishing, bass fishing, jigs, but ever since the man that raised me passed away, I hardly wet a line except to take somebody fishing. I used to love to go turkey hunting with all the old dudes, now I mostly turkey hunt alone because all of the young cats don't understand the finesse in doing it slow and smooth, they all want to ridge run. The deer hunting, don't even get me started. Most of these younger dudes are appalled that I rarely climb a tree, that I hunt and even bow hunt mostly on the ground level. I miss the old dudes we don't have and treasure the ones we do, and I try to do something every day that I think the ones that are gone would like to see.
 

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