Everything I’m going to tell you is the truth . . . as I know it. Anything I didn’t know or wasn’t sure about, I made up. 😉
I dearly love my brother. If he weren’t my bro, I’d still like the stuffings out of him. He’s just a super guy. I work with him, and on the days I see him (he’s often out of the office) my days are a little bit brighter.
My favorite (and only) brother was born an outdoorsman. He loves to hunt and fish, and not necessarily in that order.
He didn’t learn it from watching Dad. Our pop doesn’t hunt at all, and only fishes on special occasions. But Jeffrey has always loved both.
Even when he was a little kid, Jeffrey loved hunting.
When he was seven or eight (or maybe ten) he cause one of my sisters to start getting gray hair. (At least we like to blame it on him.)
Debbie got home that night before everyone else. It was pitch black outside, and there was only one light on in the entire house. So she went in the front door and, naturally, walked into the room where the light was on–Jeffrey’s room.
There, hanging by one leg from the light fixture in the middle of the room, was a dead squirrel. Blood dripped from its head onto a towel on the floor, filling the air with an awful odor.
All the scary movies I’d forced her to watch over the years probably flashed through her head. Debbie ran screaming (at least I would have been screaming) from the room, over to Grandmother’s house. (Next door.)
When the parents got home and found Debbie had taken refuge at the grandparents’ house and why, they questioned Jeffrey.
Turns out, Jeffrey wasn’t a serial killer in the making. He went hunting with Granddad, shot the squirrel, and hung it like a trophy from his light. Kind of like the stuffed animal heads he’d seen on people’s walls. (Not my parents’ walls, but he’d seen them somewhere.)
Needless to say, Mom had a talk with him about how he decorated his room and what to do with all fresh kills after that. (Leave them with Granddad.) Now whether you’re a vegetarian or a carnivore, you have to admit, my bro knew what he liked.
As he got older, Jeffrey kept hunting. After I married, I lived on one of the family’s ranches with my husband. Jeffrey came out to stay one night so he could get up early the next morning to go deer hunting.
I made him put his gun in the very back room that we only used for storage so G-Man, my husband, wouldn’t come home from work and hit it in the dark.
Jeffrey and I were watching TV when all of a sudden, he jumped up, looked around and ran for that back bedroom. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard a bear outside (we don’t have bears in this part of Oklahoma) or if he thought we were being attacked by the wild neighbors (we did have a few of those).
I sure didn’t want to startle him if he was getting ready to fire, so I waited for him to come out of the back room. The door opened, and that’s when I noticed he’d never turned on the light.
Turns out he was dreaming. I don’t know what he dreamed that sent him flying for that gun, and I’m not sure I want to know.
I try not to tease him too much about that night, since little brothers have way more stories they can share about their sisters than sisters have about them. Usually.
Jeffrey has gone to Alaska fishing and has the salmon on his office wall to prove it. He’s hunted elk in Colorado and pheasants in Kansas (or anyplace else they make themselves a nuisance.)
Jeffrey has five sisters, so that might explain why he likes being outside–he was away from us. 🙂
Once when he was small, he dialed a wrong number. The recording said, “If you need assistance, please call your operator.”
He answered, “As sister? I’ve already got five. I DON’T NEED ANOTHER ONE.”