Five-hour flights across the country provide ample time for the mind to wander. Amid the journey of mine today was the realization that this week is the 13th anniversary of a monumental moment in my hunting life.
It was a Tuesday in October of 1997 when I plopped down at a table in a Creative Writing class at St. John Fisher College. Another student at the table asked if he could borrow my notes from the previous session the week prior. I’ve never been accused of being a solid note taker, but it mattered not in this case because I too had missed the last class. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I decided to explain further why I’d be no help.
“Sorry, I wasn’t here. I was hunting the archery opener.”
The interesting part about this was the fact that I’d never before connected with the student. In fact, he was a slick-haired, preppy dresser who might only be offended by the fact I was off chasing animals. Surely he had nothing in common with this hay-seed, farm boy. Perhaps that was just enough of a reason for me to answer the way I did.
“You hunt?” he asked.
So goes my introduction to Greg Johnston. Greg has become a hunting buddy and dear friend. Rarely is there a hunting expedition that Gregor and I don’t find a way to connect on. Our wives will confirm that we likely talk on the phone some 100+ times between September and January – albeit from 500+ miles apart.
In what only can be considered an ironic moment, there happened to be a text message and voicemail on my cell phone from Greg today as my plane landed. We needed to discuss his hunt from today.
After all these years, we’re still trying to compare notes!