My grandfather and I were best friends growing up.  We worked in the shop nearly every weekend durring the winter, and fished about that many in the warmer months.  He told me stories of running big rigs, shooting deer, trips to Alaska, cruising around in a fast back mustang, and days in the duck club out behind the airport. His imprint on my life has been drastic.  I know I would not be where I am right now without his wisdom and influence. Catching fish would certainly not be my job, that is for sure.

I also remember quacking away on a wooden duck call he had sitting next to a piggy bank shaped like a wooden barrel and a plaster figures of cowboys in his bedroom.  I can still him laughing at me for how bad it sounded.  I doubt he would do much different if he were around to hear my calling now.

While we fished many days together we never went duck hunting.  In fact I don’t ever remember him going duck hunting while I was around, and it was years after he was not around anymore that I killed my first duck.

I have many objects and memories that will keep him close to me, and I know that his memory is not lessened by me not having his old call.  It does not deminish the fact that I would love to have that call with me when I went into the marsh even if it sounded horrid.

If you sell your boat and give your decoy spread to a buddy, keep something around for those that want to bring part of you out with them.  Weather it be a call or two, maybe a cork gunner, even your shotgun.  Don’t get rid of it all.  You never know if someone who loves you will find your passion later in their life.