Christmas was a wondrous time when I was growing up. From the oranges and apples in the stockings hung from the mantle to the bullets and hooks I got every year, I was always thrilled to find what Santa had brought. It was amazing how he knew I loved to fish and hunt and always knew what caliber bullets and gauge shotgun shells I needed.

The best thing about Christmas was the two weeks out of school. That meant I could hunt all day, not just an hour in the morning and a couple of hours in the afternoon. And daddy was also off work since he was the local school principal. Although we still had the 11,000 laying hens to take care of each day since they don’t take holidays, he had more time to go quail hunting.

During quail season we hunted every Saturday, but that was just one day a week. During the holidays we usually managed to go at least three days a week. I loved following the dogs and watching them work the birds. Although I usually shot at the covey with my .410 on the covey rise, it took me a long time to figure out I had to aim at one bird. I am not sure I ever killed one with that little shotgun.

By the time I was a junior in high school daddy had gotten rid of the quail dogs. He said he just did not have the time to spend with them. But by them one of my best friends had a pack of beagles and I had a drivers license so we went rabbit hunting almost every day during the holidays. That was as much fun as bird hunting.

Every Christmas I got a brick of .22 bullets, ten boxes of 50 each in a carton. All those bullets looked like they would last forever. Back then when squirrel hunting it was important to kill a squirrel with every shot. We did not want to waste a single bullet. And my eyes were good enough and my arms steady enough that I made most shots count.

I never realized at the time how much freedom I had, and thinking back I am surprised. Although times were different and I was pretty safe from weird people, there were lots of things that could happen to a young boy out in the woods with a gun. But my mother never fussed, she just let me go. I am somewhat surprised she did not smother me since she had lost her first child. My sister died at 18 months old about a year before I was born.

We never went fishing in the winter back then because we had no idea the fish would bite. I have often wished I could go back to the early 1960s and fish Clark’s Hill in its youth (and mine!) in the winter. By the time I discovered bass fishing during Christmas in the mid-1970s it was still great, but within a few years hybrids were stocked and fishermen started showing up on the lake at Christmas. Until then I pretty much had it to myself.

I taught school and worked in education so for many years I would head to the lake the day school was out and stay until Christmas Day. We had a small travel trailer at a boat club and my dog and I would be the only ones there. I would eat when I was hungry, sleep when sleepy and fish the rest of the time.

On Christmas Day I would meet Linda at my parents’ house for the day. She usually had only one day off and if she had more she would often fly up to visit her folks in Maryland. Either way I would head back to the lake the day after Christmas and fish until time to go back to work after New Years Day.

I hope everyone is making memories with their kids this Christmas. Going hunting or fishing with them even for one or two days during this hectic time will give them memories that will last a lifetime. And it will reinforce the good things in life that are still available if you just look for them.

Give you kids and yourself a change from the busy stores and away from the TV. Get outside and create some memories.

Merry Christmas!