Turkin8or
01-20-2009, 02:14 PM
Grandpa's Coat
By Randy Sullivan
The boy turned 16 and his first deer season was only months away. His grandfather,
his hero had died the year before. The boy had spent most of his young life awaiting the
day he and grandpa would go deer hunting together. Now that his time had come it would never happen.
When the day came after a sleepless night the young man rose and prepared for the hunt.
Emotions ran high with excitement and then low with disappointment because he had no one
to share the experience with. His dad had no interest in hunting and all his friends had fathers,
uncles or grandfathers to share this time honored experience with.
He had no appetite so he started to dress. All the time thinking of his grandpa and how he loved
just being with him. He remembered the strong features of his face and the seriousness in his voice
as he talked at length about gun safety and the methods for hunting. There was little joy in the
boy's heart as he pulled on his boots and strapped on his belt. But then he remembered grandpa's coat.
It was old and worn from many years of use. Its color had long since faded and he knew it would not
keep him warm. But it was grandpa's coat.
The boy went to the closet and took the coat off the hanger where it had hung since his grandmother
had presented it to him along with his grandfathers hunting knife. As the boy donned the coat he could
still smell the familiar odor that meant grandpa. The pocket contained the leash his grandpa used with
his dog Duke. His sadness ebbed as he thought about the times he spent with grandpa and Duke as they
hunted rabbits together. The boy strapped on the knife his grandfather had used for so many years.
He grabbed the gun his grandfather had hunted with for many years as well and then headed for the woods.
Alone and in the pre-dawn darkness as the boy sat down on the stump he had scouted out, his thoughts
turned again to his grandfather. The man that had molded him into what he was. His hero, his teacher
and his friend. He said this prayer: God, please take care of my grandpa for me. I hope his pain is gone.
I hope he found as much favor with you as he did with me. Could you send his spirit to be with me today
while I hunt. Alone. For the first time. I think he'd like that.
That was 34 years ago. I didn't get a deer that day. I still have the coat. I still have the hunting knife.
The gun has been replaced by a bow. Another thing that hasn't changed. I'll go into the woods Monday
morning, I'll still miss my grandpa, and I'll ask God once again to let the spirit of my grandfather
join me for the hunt.
People ask me why I hunt. How do I tell them about Grandpa’s Coat?
By Randy Sullivan
The boy turned 16 and his first deer season was only months away. His grandfather,
his hero had died the year before. The boy had spent most of his young life awaiting the
day he and grandpa would go deer hunting together. Now that his time had come it would never happen.
When the day came after a sleepless night the young man rose and prepared for the hunt.
Emotions ran high with excitement and then low with disappointment because he had no one
to share the experience with. His dad had no interest in hunting and all his friends had fathers,
uncles or grandfathers to share this time honored experience with.
He had no appetite so he started to dress. All the time thinking of his grandpa and how he loved
just being with him. He remembered the strong features of his face and the seriousness in his voice
as he talked at length about gun safety and the methods for hunting. There was little joy in the
boy's heart as he pulled on his boots and strapped on his belt. But then he remembered grandpa's coat.
It was old and worn from many years of use. Its color had long since faded and he knew it would not
keep him warm. But it was grandpa's coat.
The boy went to the closet and took the coat off the hanger where it had hung since his grandmother
had presented it to him along with his grandfathers hunting knife. As the boy donned the coat he could
still smell the familiar odor that meant grandpa. The pocket contained the leash his grandpa used with
his dog Duke. His sadness ebbed as he thought about the times he spent with grandpa and Duke as they
hunted rabbits together. The boy strapped on the knife his grandfather had used for so many years.
He grabbed the gun his grandfather had hunted with for many years as well and then headed for the woods.
Alone and in the pre-dawn darkness as the boy sat down on the stump he had scouted out, his thoughts
turned again to his grandfather. The man that had molded him into what he was. His hero, his teacher
and his friend. He said this prayer: God, please take care of my grandpa for me. I hope his pain is gone.
I hope he found as much favor with you as he did with me. Could you send his spirit to be with me today
while I hunt. Alone. For the first time. I think he'd like that.
That was 34 years ago. I didn't get a deer that day. I still have the coat. I still have the hunting knife.
The gun has been replaced by a bow. Another thing that hasn't changed. I'll go into the woods Monday
morning, I'll still miss my grandpa, and I'll ask God once again to let the spirit of my grandfather
join me for the hunt.
People ask me why I hunt. How do I tell them about Grandpa’s Coat?