Spring is coming for I walked by an old home place where no sign of a home remains but two or three yellow blossoms poke up through brown leaves. Years ago, as a boy on a farm my Dad, Neal Justus and Raleigh Holcomb would hunt turkeys and deer off this dead-end gravel road. Then, after 22 years of serving my country and often moving here and there in the USA or to three tours in the Far East, Korea, Luzon, and Vietnam, I called it quits and pulled off my uniform for the last time. While I could not return to my childhood home, I was able to settle within an hour’s drive of there. Besides, the old home and that era are gone for good.
Since 1971 when I retired from the USAF, I’ve walked old trails where Dad once hunted foxes and I would now and then get a rare gobbler or deer. Another milestone came recently when I decided not to buy hunting licenses and hunt no more, just go forth with my camera. The Bible speaks of an age and time of change, and in my life, I’ve lived several lives: farm boy, college kid, military service (Korea, Luzon, Vietnam); and helped establish missions in the Philippines and American West. In Nam I even served on detached duty with US Army II Corps near Pleiku. Along life’s way until now death did come near and yet I was spared for only God knows my beginning and end on earth.
Life has been full of so much, yet I want to see and do more.
I sometimes hear now as I walk the trail the faint echo of a shout, the bark of a dog, or the toot of a steam engine climbing a grade, memories from my youth. Often, late in the evening, I would hear Mother – Durell Dickerson Justus – calling, “Bob, come home! It is supper time!” Then I might be hunting squirrels in a nearby hollow or fishing for trout in the valley creek. Voices do speak from a lofty mountain or a bird singing over a rippling stream.
Far off in mind, I now sometimes hear a voice, such as Mother’s, an owl hoot; a gun boom or a hiss of bullet. I can also see the lovely Blue Ridges of home, the barren slopes of Korea or the forested hills of Nam north of Pleiku. Other times I see the vast watery wastes of the Pacific Ocean, the majestic mountains looming over Seattle, Washington, as a ship brings troops home from Korea. Then, in early years living in Denver, San Antonio, or Des Moines, I recall memories of friendly folks, a church of loving people, hunting quail or pheasants on broad, rich farms, and catching big bass or fat bluegills in farm ponds.
Life has been full of so much, yet I want to see and do more. Although I have 14 notebooks full of narratives and photos and items of interest while traveling across America to camp and fish and sightsee from Pennsylvania to Florida, and from Charleston, S.C., to California, I still want to see more. In time, sorrow mounts while loved ones and dear friends depart this life and so will I, for no one is exempt. Yet, my desire is to live as complete and joyful as I can yet know sorrow too.
Morning is here now and I must go to meet the day.
