Copper Dog

I was five years old and on my way to go get my first dog. A family friend had just had a litter of beagles and he said I could come pick one out if my parents let me. My parents were very understanding and didn't take that opportunity away. As we got to the man’s house there were only three dogs left. Two girls, and a boy. I picked out the boy thanked the man and held him in my arms as we walked to the car. His brown face and floppy ears rested in my arms as I climbed into the truck. As we drove down the road I was all smiles and brain storming names. When we got home we let him run around the yard, I was so happy to finally have a dog that was mine.

We have wood floors in our house and it wasn't something the new puppy had experienced yet. As he ran around the house he had no control sliding around corners as he chased me he would slam into the walls, then take off after me again. One time he thought he would get clever and take off outside our slider door that he thought was open. He found out otherwise after he crashed into the screen door that brought him to a halt. I finally decided on the name Copper which was inspired by my favorite movie Fox and the Hound.

The years went by and that dog was my best friend. Whether we were hunting for rabbits, playing fetch, wrestling, or chasing him around town because his curious hound nose took him out of the yard. I had so much fun with my new pup. As the years went on Copper watched me grow, begged for scraps at the table and cuddled in blankets with me on the couch. He was truly a man’s best friend, but at the time a boys best friend.

By the time my senior year rolled around Copper was slowing down. Something had got to him that made him LOVE water. The dog would drink water until he could barely walk. He would disappear in the yard for a few minutes, then come walking back looking as if he had swallowed a watermelon. As I went off to college I had to leave him behind and he wasn't doing the best. Copper got too sick to be able to move. Even though I loved the dog so much I couldn't bare see him the way he was. It came to a point where he was never peppy, and couldn't see well or hear. It was the hardest choice I ever had to make when we had to put him down. We made a good run. The dog knew more than any of my family because I could tell him anything. He is now in doggy heaving lapping up water and chasing rabbits. No dog will ever replace Copper, but I will see him again someday. Rest in peace Copper.

First Buck on Opening Day

 In honor of opening day of gun season this weekend I figured I would share a story about my second opening day hunt by myself. I had just turned fifteen years old that year and got a new gun for my birthday. I could not wait to take it out but for obvious reasons I had to wait a month. The days were growing closer and closer and I was so excited to get out in the woods with that new gun when the day finally came. I had sat in the oldest spot in the woods, but my favorite spot at the time. I was only sitting a few hundred yards away from where my dad was sitting, yet felt like I was on my own adventure as I walked to the stand through the dark woods.

It was turning out to be a pretty slow morning when I had only seen a few deer by eight thirty. Then everything stated to come together. I was only sitting about fifty yards into the woods off a fields when I saw a bunch of deer running across the field just to the right of me. I got excited not knowing what it could be, then i saw him. He was with eight different does and was the stud of the woods. My heart began to race due to the fact it was the biggest deer I had ever seen while hunting. He came through the woods to my right and was not presenting the shot I needed to take. I began to hit my call trying to take him off the does he was with, I was working my deer hunting magic! Like usual it did not work and he began to disappear into the the brush in front of me. He was heading right towards another guy in our woods and I was not gonna take the chance of not getting this deer. I set my gun on the rest, put the red dot right behind his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The shot went off and he took off running back where he came from, I thought for sure I had missed so I racked another shell into my twenty gauge and let another piece led fly while he was on the run. The bullet hit him like a ton of bricks and put him in a pile. My heart began to race and I heard my dad over the radio. "Was that you that shot?" He could hear the excitement in my voice as I told him I just smoked the biggest deer of my life. I never saw my dad move quicker as he go out of his stand and came over to congratulate me on my trophy. This day will stay locked in my heart and race through my mind every time I go out hunting.

Whiffle Ball

It was another summer day in Cass City Michigan. I was in my last couple of years of elementary school when I found a new game that I loved. It resembled one of my favorite sports but was less intense. You played with a plastic ball and bat, but it didn’t require a ball. If you don’t know what this game is yet you defiantly missed out. My friends and I played whiffle ball almost every day that we could that summer, and the only thing that could stop us was our parents and the weather. The game came about after we watched my neighbors play the game for a family reunion then I took the ideas to my friends. We all were excited about this new game and pooled our money together to get a new whiffle ball bat and some ball.

We bought the best whiffle ball bat we could find. It was black and the plastic had a wood print on it that made it look real. The whiffle balls were white and had holes on one side of the ball that allowed you to through crazy curve balls that people could rarely hit. We made our first whiffle ball field at my friend Lucas’s house. He had a white picket fence that we could use for a homerun boundary and a big oak tree that acted as our catcher. As the word spread of the first game more and more friends showed up. Bikes laid in the yard and we picked the teams. The first game of whiffle ball was a major success and all of our friends decided to play again.

The next day we played our first game the next day at the same spots. We all gave ourselves names of major league baseball players. Our friend Lucas was not a little kid and went by the name “Big Papi,” and I was pretended I was “Pudge.” Once again we had most of our friends there and played multiple games. We all enjoyed the fact we could hit homeruns and trot around the bases. Then we came up with an idea. We decided that we should all have fields and play a game at each field every day. We all traveled from house to house making up new fields. Some with farther fences and others that had shorter, but taller fences.  The fields all had there advantages when it came to whose house you were at. Like my house we always got lemonade, while at Lucas’s his mom made us food. Looking back at it we were living the American kids dream. Playing a game close to baseball and pretending we were the pros. Nothing will top those summer days of whiffle ball.

Flush it Down the Toilet

As this week went on I found myself in mess of homework assignments due. Which reminded me of my first failing grade I received when I was in school. I was only in the second grade when I received my first failing grade. I didn’t understand the assignment in its full and did what I did best and just winged it. Yet, this time it didn’t work so well for me.

I began working on the assignment, I can’t quite remember what it was today. We had a substitute teacher that day and the assignment was due at the end of the class period. It was an old crotchety sub that all of us students were scared of. No talking was aloud and heaven forbid if you asked to use the restroom. So I was deathly afraid of asking for help on the assignment. I began to chip away at the assignment and turned it in just in time for the class to end. I went my marry way onto the next class and forgot about the assignment.

The next day came and our original teacher was back in the classroom. She had already graded yesterday’s assignment and was passing them out. Then she handed me mine. The paper floated in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and all I could see was the big red E circled. I watched if float until it hit the desk as if the paper had turned into a cinder block. I was scared my stomach hurt and my eyes watered up. Now there was only one question in my mind. What was mom going to do? I walked home on my usual path brainstorming what I was going to do and how I was going tell mom. No idea come to mind.

I walked in the door as I always did beating mom home from work by a half hour, the longest half hour of my life. I paced around the house setting the paper in not so obvious places so I could say I left it out, but hoping she would never find it. Then she pulled in the drive way and my level of fear raised to the top. I quickly grabbed the paper and flushed it down the toilet where she would never find it. We had a casual conversation about my school day, then she went into the bathroom. I thought I had no worries until we were both standing over the toilet with my mom asking my paper was in the toilet. I began to cry about my first failing grade. My mom felt bad that I thought she would hate me for not doing well, and explained to me that I wasn’t perfect and she didn’t expect me to be. Ever sense then I wasn’t afraid to admit that I failed, and to ask questions even if it is the scary old crotchety sub.

Football Fight

It was another day of middle school practice. We went through our stretches and our running. It was humid and everyone seemed to be on edge. For some reason it seemed to be be pick on Austin day who was once of our lineman. He was in a extremely sensitive mood and for some reason a slap on his butt was not appreciated or excepted by him on this particular practice date. Our team noticed this and continued to do it. Our coaches were even getting in on the fun as they laughed at his look of anger after every "ass slap." We continued this tell it all went down hill.

Austin got to a point were saliva started to spew out of his mouth like a raccoon with rabies. Most of the team stopped except for one of the other linemen who was not the smartest and was still getting a kick out of Austin's steam rolling out of his ear holes on his helmet. It was on a jog around the field when he finally snapped, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time. Austin quickly flipped the switched tackled the kid and started pounding on him. Why he chose to punch his face mask of his helmet I have not figured out to this day, but he did. The kid who made him snap laid on his back as Austin punched his face mask and cussed a storm up at him. He laughed as this all happened until Austin grabbed his face mask and started pounding his head on the ground. This is when the coaches finally broke it up.

Our coach with his high squeaky voice yelled at the two with anger as spit flied. They both rolled over and knew what was coming. Our coach sent them on the dreaded leaf run to the woods. This meant you had to run all the way across the farmers field to the woods and grab leaves off the  tree and bring them back. They had to do this run twice together which made it even better. They were panting like dogs by the time we finished and our coach let us watch it all go down and lectured us to on treating teammates with respect, even after they got a crack out of it.

To this day we still share this story when we talk about football and get a great laugh out of it. These memories of sports when we were young and having fun are some of the greatest stories to share and laugh about. There isn't a time when I see Austin that I don't think about this time in our football past and chuckle about it as I am doing now.

Champions

The season was winding down. It was my last game as an Oriole in Cass City Little League. Our team had been successful all season and it had shown, we were in the championship. It was the day before the game and we were having our final practice before the big day. Everyone on the team was excited to see what the outcome would be. At this point in our lives it was the biggest game we had ever got a chance to play in and we wanted to make it count.

After a sleepless night, and a long day of school it was finally game day. It had been overcast all day and everyone was hoping we would be able to play the game. We got our uniforms on and took the field. I was the pitcher for the game against the Red Sox coached by one of my former coaches and playing against a long time teammate that got traded that year. At this time though it was all about winning. My dad being my coach and my cousin both gave me a pep talk before the game and I was ready. I pitched two scoreless innings before the rain came. We sat in the dugout waiting for it to pass, but it never did. The game got postponed tell tomorrow. At this point we were in a bind I wouldn't be able to pitch if we played tomorrow so we hoped for the rain to keep coming down.

The next day came I immediately woke up and ran to the window. The rain had not stopped all night and the chances for another delay was looking good. Later over the intercom at school they announced the game had been once again postponed to tomorrow. A sigh of relief came over me and I once again began to prepare myself for the next day. Another sleepless night and a long day at school had passed and it was game time once again. When I was warming up there coach watched with anticipation. Then I toed the rubber on the mound. He blew up. He argued that i couldn't pitch due to my pitch count, yet it was legal and he had to deal with it. I knew at this point we had won the intimidation factor of the game and mentally scored another run.

The game went on and it was the final inning. We were still up two to nothing when the final batter for there team came up. They had a running at first and the batter was my teammate from last year. I had to take a deep breath to calm my nerves before this happened. He was the best hitter in the league, and I was nervous. The first pitch was thrown and it was a strike. The rest of the pitches I threw were a blur. I just remember throwing the nastiest curve ball for strike three. The whole team charged the mound. That day ended in a picture a pitcher of me my dad and my cousin holding the trophy and throwing up some number ones. The picture still hangs in our garage today and brings back these great memories.    

Riders On a Storm

I had just purchased my very first bike when my parents finally decided I was old enough to stray off on my own around town. My heart was racing with excitement when I heard this. I was the first of all my friends to be allowed to ride across Main Street. After my mom had told my friends mom she also allowed him to cross if he was with me. This was the beginning of an adventurous and memory filled summer.

Our first trip across Main Street led us a mile out of town to the Cass River. The river had a bike trail along it with trails leading to fishing holes. As we rode down the trail we ran into the "Simpson Boys." These were the kids in town who never had to check in with there parents, and there parents weren't worried where they were. We joined up with them and they showed us all the sweet jumps to hit with our bikes and the good spots to fish. We made plans for the next day to leave early in the morning to go fishing!

My friend and I rode our bikes to there house at 7 in the morning. It was trash day and the boys wanted to look around for some new bikes before we left. We rode around for about a half hour until we hit a pot of gold! Two bikes with baskets and a "Lance Armstrong" type bike sat on the side of the road along with a portable radio. We took all of it and threw the radio in the basket and hit play. It was a a light purple radio with one cassette inside it. The cassette only played one song, yet it was the perfect song. The radio crackled and struggled to come on. Then it played. Riders on a storm by the Doors. Looking back at it this had to look hilarious, a almost a picture perfect scene from a movie six kids riding around town with this song playing. We took off toward the river for our day of fishing, jamming the whole way there.

We did this for the rest of the summer everyday. Riders on a storm over and over. We could sing the song by heart by the end of the first week. We fished everyday, finding every fishing whole we could find on that river. Catching crawfish and boiling them in pop cans when we got hungry, so we did not have to leave to get food. Those days will stay in my memory forever. I can just picture us riding our bikes down that old dirt trail as the that song plays and we all sing it. The Simpson boys were not the best kids to hang out with, yet they are part of a great summer filled with life lessons and laughs.