My father grew up on a dirt poor farm in Jacksonville, Georgia near Lumber City and McCray. He and his two brothers and five sisters worked hard even as kids to survive. I never knew his father, he died before I was born, but his mother lived in Ocala, Florida with one of her daughters and I saw her a few times a year.

Daddy joined the Navy as World War II started when he was not yet 20 years old. He never talked much about his service, other than he trained to be a gunner and got deathly seasick on the troop transport to the South Pacific. He said he threw up for 30 days straight!

After getting a medical discharge for rheumatic fever he came home and lived with one of his sisters in McDuffie County where he met my mother. Like many of his fellow veterans, he went to college on the GI Bill and graduated with a degree in agriculture from the University of Georgia. After college they moved back to McDuffie County and I was born that summer. I was born in Athens since mama continued to go to her doctor there after they moved away in June of 1950.

Daddy was the agriculture teacher and shop teacher at Dearing High School. Part of that job was visiting local farmers and helping them out with everything from soil testing to hog castration. When schools consolidated around 1960 and the high school students were sent to Thomson, he became principal of Dearing Elementary and stayed there until retiring in 1977.

In the seventh and eighth grade he taught me math and shop. It was a small school so the principal also taught some classes each day. When I say small I mean small. I started first grade and went through eighth grade with the same 28 students, all in one classroom each year as we moved from grade to grade.

Daddy also bought a small farm and started an egg producing operation, starting small with four houses with about 1200 chickens each. When I was a teenager he added four more houses, much more modern and housing about 1500 layers each. Our 11,000 chickens provided eggs for most of the grocery stores in the area from the A&P and Winn Dixie to mom and pop country stores. And dozens of people came to our house to buy eggs in small amounts.

Daddy loved bird hunting and kept two pointers in some old chicken houses about a mile from our house. We fed them every day and could not wait until quail season opened each year. I spent many hours with him, following the dogs and hoping to find a covey of birds.

For several years I just walked along and learned safety and hunting etiquette. Then I was allowed to carry a .410 shotgun and actually try to hit a bird when the covey or a single flushed. I don’t think I ever did, although I was deadly with the shotgun on squirrels and anything else sitting still.

Since daddy knew many farmers well we were also invited to dove shoots every Saturday during season. I was daddy’s retriever for several years and prided myself on finding every bird he hit no matter where it fell. And again I was learning about dove shooting and safety while sitting in the blind with him.

I was really proud when I was allowed to take my .410 with me and had all my equipment in an old gas mask bag one of my uncles gave me. I still have that bag, more than 50 years later, and use it while deer hunting now. And a few times I actually hit a dove on those shoots and got to put it in my bag!

I can remember only one time daddy went squirrel hunting with me. I went many afternoons after school and even some mornings before school. One afternoon daddy went with me. I killed my limit of ten that afternoon, one of my best hunts, and daddy never killed one. But he never shot at one either, letting me kill all we saw. He was much more proud of me killing them!

Daddy didn’t like fishing very much and never went with me or mama. Mama loved fishing and went every chance she got. As he got older daddy did start crappie fishing with us in the spring at Clarks Hill. Not because he liked fishing but because he loved to cook and eat crappie.

I was expected to work on the farm from an early age. And daddy depended on me and my brother helping out. But I know he did extra work many times so I could go hunting or fishing rather than work.

Happy Father’s Day. If you can, enjoy some time with your father. If he is gone, like mine, rejoice in his memory. And if you have kids, spend some fun time with them. They will always remember fishing or hunting trips long after movies and games they like are long forgotten.

What is your favorite outdoor memory? I have a lot of them, but I have had a lot of time to make them. If you spend time outdoors you will make both good and bad memories, often when least expected. And you will remember them the rest of your life.

My first bass will always stand out since it hooked me for life. Mom and I were fishing below Usury’s Pond dam and catching small bream and catfish. Our tackle was a cane pole, cork, hook and sinker. Live earth worms were our bait.

My cork went under and when I lifted my pole the fish took off and jumped several times. That bass was probably about ten inches long but I loved the way it ran and fought, very unlike the other fish we had been catching. I have loved catching bass since that day.

My first deer is also memorable to me. I had been hunting for about four years, since I was 14 years old. My first two years my parents would let me hunt only during archery season with my uncle Adron. But when I turned 16 I got a Marlin 30-30 lever action rifle and was allowed to hunt with it.

I was hunting on public land on Germany Creek near out boat club. I had seen a few does during the year from my first climbing stand Mr. Ed Henderson had made from a picture in a magazine. That mid-November morning I had been on the stand about two hours when I spotted a buck about 100 yards up the hill.

It is no excuse, but I this was before I had a scope on my rifle. I aimed at the shoulder, and I am sure I was shaking badly from buck fever. When I pulled the trigger the deer dropped, then got up and ran. I emptied my gun at it as it disappeared over a small hill.

Staying on the stand as long as I could stand it, probably just a few minutes that seemed like hours, I started down the tree. I was in such a hurry I jumped from the stand when it was still about eight feet off the ground. That jump would injure me now, but at 18 I hit the ground running while reloading.

I topped the hill and there lay an eight point buck. I could not have been more proud, although now I know it was a year-and-a-half old buck. Its rack was mall but perfectly formed, and my dad got it mounted. I think he was as proud as me. It is looking at me as I type this.

Camping and building huts in the woods are great memories. The best hut we ever built was a “log cabin.” We cut saplings and made walls between four nicely placed trees, and finally remembered we needed a door so we made one. The roof was saplings laid side by side and thatched with sweetgum limbs and leaves. It slowed the rain a little. That eight by eight foot hut was our castle.

Camping took many different forms, from sleeping in the back yard in lounge chairs to putting up an army surplus pup tent in the woods. Lounge chairs look like they would be comfortable, and they get you off the ground, but that bar across it where it folds guarantees there is no way to get comfortable for the night.

Pup tents worked little better. They were drier than the hut but the gaps around the ground allowed mosquitoes and other bugs in. But we spent many happy nights sleeping on the ground in them in sleeping bags. It is amazing how rocks pop out of the ground right under you all night long no matter how well you clear it before putting out your bag.

My first Top Six tournament when I made the state team will always be special. My first time was over 30 years ago and I have made the team five more times since then, but that one will always hold a special place in my mind. I placed fourth at West Point out of 540 fishermen. Without Kenneth Hattaway’s advice I would not have made the team, and many people have helped me over the years. Those are good memories, too.

Quail and dove hunting with dad was always special, but the first time he let me take the dogs and his short barrel 12 gauge out by myself was special. I found five coveys that afternoon, all by myself, and killed one bird from each covey. That was four more than I had ever killed in one day with my .410!

Dad never went squirrel hunting with me although I hunted several afternoons a week after school and all day on Saturday during most of the season. One day after school while I was getting ready dad said he would go with me. I got a limit that afternoon, killing ten tree rats, very unusual. Dad never fired a shot and I now realized he tried to help me kill every one we saw. He was always the one to walk around the tree to make the squirrel come around where I could see it.

All those and many more are special memories. Don’t miss a chance to make some of your own, especially with your kids.

The song “Auld Lang Syne asks “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?” The beginning of the new year is a good time to remember our past and people that influenced our lives. They should not be forgotten.

Many people impact us over our lives and affect the way we think and the things we like to do. Most important are our parents and family but it branches out to people we go to school with, work with, and meet in clubs and church.

Do you ever stop and think about what influenced you to love fishing? All kids seem to instinctively like fishing and enjoy going, but many never get that chance. And others seem to turn away from fishing as they grow up. But without the chance to go fishing growing up, few will become fishermen after they become adults.

Although I had only one brother, my father and mother had many brothers and sisters and those aunts and uncles influenced me in many ways. Most of them lived within a few miles of where I grew up so I had lots of contact with them all the time.

Uncle Adron, my mother’s youngest brother of five, took me deer hunting my first time when I was 14 years old. He also took me fishing and introduced me to Crème worms, the first plastic worms to come out, back in the 1950s. He taught me where to fish them, how to fish them, and ways to fight and land bass that hit.

Uncle Mayhu lived in Virginia but made annual summer trips to Georgia. I always looked forward to his visits because I got to go fishing with him almost every day he was in town. He and Uncle Adron fished together and let me go along on most of the trips to local farm ponds and lakes. Uncle Adron had permission to fish almost every pond in the county and we had many memorable trips.

I also got to go to New Port News, Virginia and visit Uncle Mayhu most years. He took me to tidal rivers and creeks to catch catfish and bass as well as fishing for saltwater fish in the James River and Chesapeake Bay. Those saltwater trips were great and I was amazed at how many fish we caught, and the variety. Many I had never seen or even heard of in central Georgia since there was no saltwater fishing within many miles of where I grew up.

Uncle J.D. owned a hardware store and he sold fishing and hunting supplies there. I bought many of my fishing and hunting supplies there at a very steep discount. It seemed something extra was always included after my purchase, too.

He also had a farm where we shot doves and fished in his pond. He gave me and army surplus gas mask bag the first time I hunted there when I was about eight years old and I still use it to this day, over fifty years later, to carry essentials when I go deer hunting. Old and ragged now, I carry it for the memories although newer more fancy bags are left at home.

Uncle Roger was a salesman for a big outdoor distribution company and always seemed to have something for me when I visited. From boxes of bullets to a brand new bass plug, he seemed to delight in my thrill of getting those items and using them. He did not fish much but loved to hear about the fish I caught on things he had given me.

Uncle Walter, daddy’s brother, took me saltwater fishing the first time I ever went. He loved going to Carrabelle on Florida’s panhandle and fish for trout. We went and stayed a week and the wind blew so bad we were able to go out only one day, but I fished in the boat canal and caught dozens of topsail catfish.

Those men will live in my memory as long as I am alive. I cherish the things they taught me and the trips I took with them. And they helped instill the love of fishing I have that will also live in me as long as I live. My mother loved fishing, too, and was probably the biggest influence on me, and that is a strong motivation in my life.

Family is important. At the end of the year, remember people who have influenced you and honor their memory. In fact, do that every day, not just at the end of the year.

Its hard to believe this is the last few days of 2014. Every new year gives hope of better things for us, and if we work at it, each new year will offer them. The end of the year is a time to reflect but also to plan, and to make resolutions to better yourself for the future.

Reflecting back, not over just the past year but over all the past years, I realize I have been blessed with a wonderful life. I had two parents that loved me but did not smother me. When I read about “helicopter parents,” parents that hover around their children all the time even to the extent of moving to the town where they go to college, I grimace.

My parents took care of me but allowed me to be free. I spent countless hours out in the woods and on ponds by myself or with friends my age. That taught me independence and to think for myself, something I fear kids now days will never have the change to learn.

I was taught to work for what I wanted, and to keep my wants reasonable. Never in my life would I bite off more than I could chew, as my dad used to say. I can’t imagine using a credit card without paying off the balance every month nor can I imagine depending on others to support my wants. That is something else I am afraid the current generation will never learn.

I know I am the only one responsible for my decisions and the mistakes I make. I call my mistakes “self inflicted wounds” and know to not blame others for them. Anyone can succeed and become almost anything they want to be, as long as they work at it and don’t blame others for their problems.

I often shake my head in amazement when hunters and fishermen blame their “bad luck” on others, or things they can’t control. The wind changed direction and the fish quit biting? Change your pattern, don’t cuss the wind. Someone is sitting on the point you wanted to fish? Go to a better one.

For the new year I plan on living by the things I have learned and that I know will work. I love bass fishing and am determined to think while fishing a tournament, not just go through the motions. If my favorite way of fishing isn’t working I will do something else.

If deer just won’t come by my most comfortable stand I will go to one that is not as comfortable and change my luck. I won’t blame bad luck when I turn my head too fast and spook a deer, I will just move more slowly when scanning the woods. And I won’t climb out of my stand as soon as my feet get cold or I get uncomfortable. I will stay as long as possible to improve my odds.

This next year I hope adults will take the time to work with kids and teach them to hunt and fish. One common character of the students that got into trouble and were sent to my school when I was principal of the alternative school was they did not have parents or other adults that took time with them.

I will never forget the way the kids eyes lit up and how excited they got when one of my teachers organized a scout troop and took them fishing. I hope every kid will have an adult that will light up their eyes. And it seems that kids spending time outdoors somehow insulates them against the things that get so many of them into trouble.

There is an old saying that God doesn’t count against you the time you spend fishing. I hope so, and I am determined to go fishing every time I can, and to enjoy every trip. Even if I make mistakes and don’t do well in a tournament I will try to enjoy the time fishing and learning from my mistakes.

This coming year the counselor and two teachers, with the help of some students at Spalding High are trying to organize a bass fishing club. I will do everything I can to help this club be successful, and encourage members of my two bass clubs to work with them, mentor them and take them fishing.

We live in a fantastic country with unlimited opportunities for anyone willing to take advantage of them. Too many folks scoff at that idea for some reason, but it is true. Nowhere else on earth can anyone achieve their goals like they can here.

I hope parents will be parents, and teach their children to work for what they want and to not blame others for their problems, just like my parents taught me so many years go. The possibilities are unlimited.