As usual for me in April, the last few days have been a struggle. When the allergy really gets to working on my mind and body, I want to go hide somewhere. If not that, I want to go west to the high mountains of Wyoming, Montana or Colorado. I get relief in the mountain air. But, wait! On April 4th it is still winter at 10,000 or so feet! Besides that, I’m trying to tell myself going west is over for me. After retirement from the Air Force, I have often traveled with friends 1200 miles to camp and fish in Wyoming.
While in the USAF I was stationed almost four years in Denver. I loved the hunting and fishing, vast mountain ranges, rivers, lakes and streams. We had good neighbors and good people living around us and a few fishing buddies. I obtained on a hard hunt a mule deer buck shot on top of a 10,000-foot peak north of Durango. It took two days to get the buck off the mountain with the help of a friend. Also, the fishing was outstanding! I am still amazed at the size and number of trout I brought home. I had few troubles with allergies there, too.
Having gone west 15 times since retiring from the USAF, why do I often dwell on the west? Well, as a boy I began reading Zane Gray and Louis L’Amour and have a shelf lined with their western stories given me this past Christmas by Amy, my daughter. Age is a factor now but a person having done good things wants to keep on!
I took many trips west and some trips south to fish the Gulf, plus enjoyed local trout fishing, and years of deer hunting around Georgia. Several 3-ring binders contain narratives and photos of trips to hunt, fish or sightsee. What else could I desire? Well, I miss friends and relatives with whom I served with in the Air Force or had near home who have passed on. Fred and Toni Barrington, now deceased, were friends in the Air Force and later we visited and fished together over the years in retirement.
Well, life changes! The Bible also speaks of change. Now I take daily walks in the park or on woodland trails. I like company and yet seek to be alone at times. Often, I walk in woods where my Dad – Neal Justus – hunted foxes years ago. A red fox always has a den where I walk near an old mill. Once I was privileged to see her grooming her kit – young fox – just like a dog with a pup. I talk less now and listen more to other people, usually younger than I. Times change! As I grew up it was customary for young persons to listen to adults. I feel blessed to still go as the sun rises and walk a winding path where birds sing.
