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Editor's Note: This is a reprint of a column published last year. It is being republished by special request.
 
If you sit back and consider your life, are there just a few small things that jump out at you? Have you ever had a split second recollection of a small memory as a child that may literally last just a few seconds in your mind, but it becomes a memory that will forever remain embedded in the corner of your brain? This happens to me occasionally. I can be talking to someone about something or somebody when all of a sudden a small scene plays out in my mind recalling quick short events that bring back good and bad memories. Think about it. I have a hunch everyone has those moments.
I have memories of short events. I can remember the time I cut the muscle in my big toe, while playing in Spring Creek with the Mueller boys during one of our camping trips. It happened in the creek behind what is now Burroughs Park. All I can recall is cutting the underside of my toe, looking at it and seeing some bad stuff but I simply took a dirty sock, wrapped it around the toe and went about my camping trip. It was only years and years later that I realized I had actually cut the muscle under my toe and now I cannot curl my big toe. It remains straight and unable to flex. It is about a five second memory. I remember nothing else about the camping trip – not sure how many of the Mueller boys were there and I'm not sure how long I remained in camp that day after it happened. (In case you didn't know there were seven boys in the Mueller Family, so we did not all go to the same place at the same time and please ladies, now that my mom is gone please don't call me  and fuss at me for wrapping my cut toe in a dirty sock. I now know better.)
Another short event is when my sister Gallbladder hit me in the head with a roasting pan. (I'm sorry, misprint – her real name is Gail) I have no idea why she hit me, but all I recall is this big bong sound coming from my ears as this big, black, speckled roasting pan landed squarely on top of my head. She hit me with the center of the bottom of the pan, so it did not hurt, but in less than one or two seconds I can recall the sound and eventual laughter that arose from the family after she hit me. She says now that I was probably picking on her which I have been occasionally known to do.
I was having a conversation with my neighbor and distant cousin Ruby Vogt a couple of day's ago. I told her that I have a short memory about her mom, Ms Edna Mae.
When I was a young man running the dirt roads of Hufsmith on my bicycle, different people would occasionally ask me to help them with different small chores around the place. I have no idea why or how come I was down at the Vogt home, but all I can recall is that Ms. Edna Mae and I were standing in the yard talking, when suddenly a pole cat (skunk) was running across the pasture.
Seeing this chicken killin', thievin', stinkin' critter she went into a minor semi panic mode. She quickly let out a small sound of shock to see this critter in mid day and she turned and ran up her steps into her house and quickly exited with shotgun in hand. She thrust the shotgun into my hand and hollered "shoot em', go shoot em'" I know I must have already been ten or twelve years old and I had been around guns all my life, but any hunting I did was always with my dad. Here I was, away from the confines of our own property and visiting a neighbor, when she hands me this gun, sight unseen and instructs me to go shoot this varmint. She had it loaded and ready to fire and I took aim.
At this point my memory stops. It's gone! I have no recollection of my shot, no recollection of the end results and nothing else about the whole event, but maybe fifteen seconds of life, as this grown adult woman of whom I admire and love handed me this gun. It was as if I had suddenly achieved the manly, masculine qualities required to protect and serve. Never mind all I was doing was protecting a pen full of chickens. Never mind that I had never used another gun other than my dad's. Never mind that I had never shot a skunk before. All I remember is that moment of life that this lady respected me as old enough to handle the task at hand.
This should teach all of us a small lesson. We humans remember little things. Little spots of life, whether good or bad, are forever etched in our minds, never to be erased. Always strive to leave good memories in peoples lives. Hold back the one bad word or bad comment. Keep that outburst of anger in check. Bite your tongue because somewhere, someplace, somebody is always watching and the memory banks of the brain may never forget.


- Clifford

My daughter recently showed me a picture of Superman. He was in a football uniform except this time he was in a real game. He wasn't dressed up for Halloween as he was the last time I saw him. That was over thirteen years ago and Superman had grown up. Here was a story I remembered from many, many years ago.
Halloween had come and gone and I got into trouble again. It seems that every year that goes by I get in trouble for one reason or another.
Some years I get into trouble for being over zealous in my Halloween activities and then some years I get fussed at for not caring.
If I am in one of my, I don't care years, my wife gets on to me because I don't come to the door every time it rings and ogle and ah at each little candy snatcher that makes their way to our door. If I'm in one of my very active modes she has to get on to me because I tend to go overboard. I can still remember one year at a former church I attended I kinda got into trouble for being too creative.
The Hall family used to live in a location that was way out in the boonies or at least so it seemed.  Tall trees and a lot of underbrush surrounded them and their property had a gully that ran across one area of the land. We decided to have a spook trail and we did all kind of fun scary things. We cleared paths in the woods and I laid some lumber across this little gully that had about two inches of water in it. Once it got dark all of the actors took their various places around the trail and I tended the water crossing.
As the group touring our trail got positioned onto the crossing, I would pour a cup of gasoline on the water as it ran toward the board. I could see the oily skin on the water reflecting in the moonlight and as soon as it got near the bridge I would light the gasoline. The trail of fire trickling toward the board crossing naturally made people scatter. It was fun until the women started getting mad because I was making them get their feet wet while escaping the wall of fire. People got tired of trampling on each other too! Creative panic and controlled chaos is what I called it.
I really felt bad about what happened this one particular year! I always thought Halloween was a time to be so scared it made you wet your pants but apparently that idea went out with bell-bottom pants.
One little trick or treater named Tyler Ligon visited our house along with his mom. I happened to be outside when they drove up and once they made their way inside I hid between some bushes in front of our house hoping to scare everybody that walked out the door. For whatever reason my wife allowed them to exit the side door to our home and little Tyler made his way past my lair as I jumped out and growled real loud. The little fellow was dressed as Superman and as much as he tried not to, he burst into tears, deflating any laughter this old man had. I apologized and my wife got after me with a piece of weed eater string. I guess it just goes to show you that big guys never grow up and all guys, big or little, still need the comfort from the women in their lives.
It was good to see your picture Tyler. I'm the old man that scared Superman.



- Clifford

Last week I shared the truth about my hunting activities. I enjoy telling everyone that I enjoy hunting and I really do…but the truth be told that typically I am a lazy hunter. I enjoy the THOUGHT of hunting and I enjoy being around everybody at the camp house but when it comes to actually having to get up and go out in the field of game I become lazy. Here is what I thought was going to happen to me when I ended my story last week: I showed up at the ranch for this weekend to deer hunt. I got up early well before sunrise Saturday morning to head out to my stand. After several cups of coffee and a bathroom stop I decided to take a quick nap before walking to my stand and didn't get up until noon.

Well, actually I am pleased to tell you that it did not happen that way and I am also excited to announce that I had the most HAIR RAISING and EXHILARATING hunting experience of my life! No, I did not get a deer but that does not matter. That would have caused me to have to clean the thing but here is what did happen.

I arose early Saturday morning well before daybreak. The younger hunters had sat around the campfire until the early morning hours and I heard them come in about 2 AM. I was laughing to myself cause I was going to sneak out of the house, shoot my deer and have it hanging in the tree field dressing it before these young ‘en's ever got out of bed. When I got up I had that nasty yucky mouth feeling so I grabbed my toothbrush and stepped outside with a bottle of water to brush my teeth. The moon was absolutely beautiful and bright. I stepped to the back of my truck and dropped the tailgate and placed my items on the tailgate and the moon was so bright I could actually read the toothpaste tube. I figured that because of such a bright moon the deer had probably been feeding all night and that hunting would probably not be too good.

I grabbed my gun and headed toward the woods. The moon was so bright that walking to my stand was nothing. I took a small, little, rinky dink, double AA battery powered pen light with me. I had just enough light that I could double check my stand for critters before I climbed in it.

As I left an open field and headed into the woods, I could still see the moon light as it broke through the canopy of the tree tops brightly shining my way down the now wooded trail leading to my stand. About fifty yards from my stand I suddenly heard a rustling to my right and an immediate sound of an animal passing gas. I could tell from the sound that something had been bedded down and as with us men, animals tend to expel the nights build up of noxious odors as soon as we stand up from the nights slumber. (Women do too but they don't talk about it like we guys do).

No sooner than I heard this loud rumble of gas, I heard a swishing sound like a deer makes when it has been spooked.

"Great", I thought to myself. "I've done jumped a deer bedded down next to my stand" when suddenly this awful rustling sound came thrashing toward me in the darkness. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall as this noise was multiplied numerous times and I thought the whole woods had come alive with creatures of the night!

I grabbed the stupid little pen light I had in my pocket with one hand and had raised my gun to my shoulder with the other. My life was flashing before me because I thought Satan had been awakened as this thundering, thrashing and swishing sound, came toward me in the darkness! I knew I could not shoot because my target was not identified, but I figured if something bites me or tries to maul me I was going to shoot because I would then know it was not a cow or human! My dumb little pen light did not have the power to light up an ants behind, but I kept waving it toward the noise and then like a little girl I even let out some kind of sickly yell! I was petrified when suddenly in front of me in a moonlit spot, four hogs came barreling across the trail. Even then and after knowing it was hogs, my life continued to flash before me because now I wondered if the boar was stalking me! Then, as suddenly as the sound had began, it faded away into the still darkened night.

Weak-kneed and perspiring and hoping my drawers were still clean I made my way to my stand.

It was a great hunt! One I will never forget.

Clifford

P.S. Several years ago I told a story about seeing a beautiful black panther at the ranch. Most people scoffed at me. My son and I both saw this animal on Saturday in hot pursuit of a group of deer! I now have a witness!

- Clifford

I got a phone call tonight from a Fellon. She tried to harass me, but people always forget that I can generally have the last laugh. The word is mightier than the sword.

Ok, Ok, now let me straighten out this story. The Fellon that called me is actually my son's mother in law. No, she is not really a felon, but she really is a Fellon. That is her last name. She thought she could tease me about a recent situation that occurred to me. The two of us have recently had similar occurrences in our separate lives that have caused us distress. She has had a real bad sinus infection which has caused her serious and uncomfortable nose bleeds and I have recently had a nose bleed too! The only thing however is she had no control over her sickness, but shear dumbness caused me to create my own nose bleed.

I was trying to show off and accidentally hurt myself. You would think that a guy who just turned sixty would have more sense, but alas, I'm a kid at heart and made a dumb mistake. My son and I went to the shooting range to get ready for opening weekend of deer season. I'm a lazy hunter and really don't even hunt anymore, but I try to push myself into believing I will do some serious hunting. The truth is I don't like getting out of bed early enough to climb into a stand. Just the same, I do go to the range every year for that "just in case" opportunity and the trip is a tradition for my son and I (and my son in law – if I can get him to go).

Well this year I decided to shoot my lever action 30-30 with open sight, at 50 yards. I did reasonably well grouping ten shots in a hands span while my son was on the other end of the range shooting a hundred yards with my scoped 30-30. As I stood behind him watching his shooting techniques, I noticed by his body language that he was not happy with his shots. Finally he turned to me and told me he was having some difficulty hitting the bull's eye.

Great, I thought, here is one way for the old man to one up him and I just calmly asked him if I could give it a try. I grabbed the gun and sat down at the bench. I pushed all the sand bags aside as I knew that sitting in a deer stand would not offer the comfort and resting on a stack of bags. No siree I was going to free hand it! I threw the gun to my shoulder and fired off a nice quick round at the target. In a split second after my shot was made I glanced through the scope again at the target and sure 'nuff a nice clean hole just an inch or so away from the bull's eye.

Well, I thought in a nano second, I better quit while I'm ahead and then suddenly a sharp pain began to develop as I felt a warm trickle run down the top of my nose. Ohhhh, you dummy, my mind screamed, show no pain, as I stepped away from the bench and stepped back for my son to gaze at his dad's well placed shot. I moved to the edge of the dark shadows and took the cuff of my old shirt and pressed it hard against my nose when my son turned to me and saw me bleeding.

If you haven't figured it out by now, my showing off made me hold the gun too loosely and when I fired the scope came back and hit me across the nose leaving a nice clean cut across the bridge of my German sized schnotzel. (Yes, I know that is not the right word but that is what my Grandma called it). The whole incident became funny by that time, as the pain had subsided, but it made me think back to my Great Uncle Teddy Vogt. I seem to recall the time as a kid when he showed up at a family reunion with a very badly bruised eye from the same situation. We got to laughing among ourselves as young kids and nick-named him Uncle Scope Eye. I guess I learned my lesson because payback ain't funny.

All in all, the pain and no gain was a good time for my son and I to be together and the harassing phone call from Mrs. Fellon made for a good story. I just can't wait to give you a deer hunting report. It's probably gonna read something like this: I showed up at the ranch this weekend to deer hunt. I got up early, well before sunrise Saturday morning, to head out to my stand. After several cups of coffee and a bathroom stop I decided to take a quick nap before walking to my stand and didn't get up until noon..

 - Clifford

The sun began to move lower into the sky and the wind that had been blowing all day was beginning to subside. It has been a good day. Here I now rested under the shade of the big oak tree in the middle of the pasture and not a soul around but for me, myself and I. I grabbed my thermos of coffee I had in my truck and pulled up a chair to the still standing table and began to enjoy a place that is near and dear to my heart, the Family Ranch.
All the guys had left and I was finishing up my cleaning duties and began to just really chill out. As I sat in the silence of nature a few deer appeared in the distance no longer disturbed by the many, many shotguns that had been hammering away at clay targets just an hour or two before. I enjoyed the coffee and then after tying up a few loose ends I climbed back into my truck for my trip home about an hour away.
I had invited the men of my church up to the ranch for a great time of manly fellowship. As I surveyed the crowd that had gathered earlier in the day I suddenly observed that I think I have now become an official, old man in the crowd. I do believe I was the eldest of them all and it brought me pleasure to share with these guys a place that I enjoy. I looked over at my son during the day and realized he will someday be the leader of the festivities up here if he so desires.
Our goal for the day was to shoot some skeet and I had made preparations for twenty to thirty people. I have to admit that I skipped Sunday Morning Church services to make the preparations for everybody and I hope the Lord forgives me. The game plan was for all the guys to head out in a caravan after church being lead by my son and then as soon as they arrived I was to have lunch prepared for immediate consumption. I had purposely kept everyone in the dark about the menu for several reasons. First of all, I know men well enough that they will eat just about anything anybody will make if they are hungry enough and I knew they would be hungry right after church. Not that church makes anybody hungry now mind you, but church always seems to let out just a few minutes after my normal lunch time. Secondly I didn't share the menu because this brings down too many suggestions. The women were not invited and without the women we men can do just about anything we want with our meals. The tables don't have to have center pieces or table cloths, the food doesn't have to be a balanced meal and the food can be cooked as spicy as we want. I did hear however, a few of the guys make comments as to how lost they felt without the women being there.
After we had our lunch time prayer I simply told the guys to help themselves and dig in. I had grilled some sausage and tube steaks and had a choice of bread, bun, flour tortilla or simply a sausage on a stick. It was their choice to create whatever they wanted with the food at hand. Some of them said they were lost. They couldn't hear any woman telling them how to make their plate, what to eat and not eat and to watch dripping grease on their shirt. They even commented about how quiet it was with no talking during the meal. We all simply ate good greasy food and listened to the end of the football game on the car radios with no talking interruptions. The guys had thought all female influence had passed us by that day until I suddenly saw Matt using PINK SHOTGUN SHELLS! I just about died when I saw PINK SHOTGUN SHELLS at the ranch. I could not believe it and they really did not improve his shooting very much either. Actually, after watching this group shoot, I don't think a crook has anything to worry about. David won the grand prize. Ed came in a one shot second. I gave David a cheap gimmie calculator that I have had in my closet for ten years. Actually I gave him two of them. Ed's prize for second place was; not having to carry around a piece of junk that probably did not work anyhow.
Everything had gone real well for me during the earlier part of the day. The fire in my pit was able to burn down quickly enough to put the sausage on at a good even heat and everything fell into place very well except when something literally fell that I haven't told anybody about until now. Well, something fell on the ground. Actually a whole pan of sausage fell onto the ground but I followed the old standby five second rule. I quickly picked it up and thoroughly washed it off before returning it to the pit for reheating --- or maybe I didn't really. You will never know….
Thanks guys for the good memories.


 - Clifford