Wow, 2014, already… This is new ground for me. It appears that I have now outlived the men in my family for seven or eight generations. You may have stumbled into the same experience. This probably calls for a rendition of Auld Lang Syne, or something; it seems to be a sort of double opportunity to make the most of another great year in Paradise. So what are we to make of this much anticipated—or surprising—shiny New Year?
You likely recall that I gave up on New Year’s Resolutions quite a while ago, right after The Old Man went back to the other side.
In the summer of 1980, my father (he’d called himself The Old Man since I was a small boy) and I spent a week of long days at my Denver home reminiscing and talking about anything and everything either of us ever wanted to know about the other. We both felt we had happily completed a huge number of unfinished conversations.
Late in the following January, I found myself taking a series of hops from Denver to Wenatchee to deliver his eulogy. As the commuter swept over the Columbia and dropped onto that runway, it dawned on me that he’d left me with a greater gift than I might have ever imagined. I realized that I had already failed to keep most of my New Year 1981 resolutions, and the whole idea seemed rather pointless.
At the service, I started thinking about completion. For some time after his death, I wrestled with a deep empty place inside. Oddly, at the same time, I felt complete about our relationship. It had to be because we had taken the time to complete our time the summer before. I left his funeral feeling that “completions” were probably more valuable than “resolutions.”
After that, I mostly spent the latter part of each year working to free up the new one. That mindset pretty quickly corresponded with some pretty cool events and occurrences. Case in point: business dating back to 1961.
I was a 19 year‑old DJ for a new country and western radio station in Boise. Field & Stream Magazine’s Ted Trueblood, arguably one of the two best and most popular outdoor writers in America, lived in Nampa, just down the road. I wanted to do a daily feature on Idaho=s outdoors, so I found a sponsor, and lined up guests. I knew there was no way Ted Trueblood would talk with some local kid on the radio, but on a hunch I called him. He was delighted, of course, and was a weekly regular until I joined the Air Force.
Like a million others through the 60s and 70s, I wrote and submitted articles to outdoor rags and mags, trying to get one of those elusive “writer” or “author” stipends. At one point, I could cover my desk with rejection slips in one or another color, size or type.
I often thought about writing to Ted, but figured he probably had enough to do. By 1972, the pile of rejection slips was still growing, so I wrote him, asking for any coaching he might have. What I got back was amazing.
He went through my story line by line, typing out his comments. He gave me encouragement and advice. He thought I had ability, and pointed out that he would discourage me if he thought I should forget writing. I was struck by his kindness and generosity. By then, I was heading to Colorado to profess at CU, and I let the writing sit. I vowed to someday properly thank him.
In the mid-80s, Ted Trueblood died. Soon after, I met his son, Jack, who worked for Idaho Fish & Game. Then, I crossed paths with Clare Conley, Ted=s old editor at Field & Stream. I wrote a long letter about my experience with Ted, dug out his letter, and mailed the package to Conley and Jack—on New Year’s Eve, 1986.
The following year, for the first time, I got paid for my writing.
These days, I have questions I start asking myself right after Christmas. Questions like AWho did something this year which changed your life, or a way you did something in your life?@ or AWho got you out fishing or hunting or outdoors when you figured it wasn=t going to happen?@ or AWho made an impossible day workable with a kind word or a pat on the back just when you needed it? or AWho showed you a new fishing hole, or a new technique for fishing an old one?@ New questions come up every day. Answering those questions, with the right mix of gratitude and action, helps me spend the end of an old year successfully freeing up the new one.
So here’s to 2014! And to being free to receive all it will offer each of us.
