We Must Get Taller As We Get Older

Remember mom standing you up against the kitchen door jam?  She would put a pencil mark at the top of your head and compare how much you grew since the last mark.  You wanted to grow taller than mom or any one else you could compare with.

Someone once said that after a while we start to shrink with age.  My brother, Warren, said even one leg could be shorter than the other, depending upon which hip you had replaced.  I suppose we could debate  that. 

Well, I have come to the conclusion that we really grow taller as we get older.  It may have something to do with the elasticity of the woods, or even the shriveling of the earth’s surface which caused the hills to grow. 

I have noticed that when bending over to put on my boots on an early hunting morning, my hands are farther away from my feet each year.  When I was sixteen, I had no problem reaching my feet to put on my boots, but recently my arms are either shorter or my legs are longer, so obviously I am growing taller from one end or the other.

Come to think of it, if this continues, I’ll have to bend over carefully to keep from bumping my forehead on the door to the Pearly Gates.  Naw, I’m sure he’ll have someone watching.

Elastic Woods -Not "Wood" but "Woods"

When I was around 16 years of age, I went hunting in the far North near Phillips, Wisconsin, with a group of friends, which included Uncle Clyde.  Uncle Clyde, who was only about 3 years older than I, was purported to have a heart murmur, whatever that was.  Mother admonished me to be sure not to let Uncle Clyde do any strenuous exercise, such as “dragging deer out of the woods”.  To  be sure, after at least a 2 mile hike into the midst of a windfall swamp, Uncle Clyde sat down and shot an eight point 200 pound buck within a few minutes of arriving at our stands.  Need I say more?

After about two hours of dragging the miserable load of venison over ten thousand windfalls (perhaps slightly exaggerated), I made it back to the road where it could be transported back to camp.  Why do I bring this up?  For the same reason people question if I really did walk 5 miles to school through stupendous snow drifts and run home for lunch just to avoid mash potato sandwiches in my lunch bag.

I remember enjoying a one mile hike to a deer stand in Shawano, Wisconsin.  It was over numerous windfalls and usually some wet swamps.  But anticipating the opening of the hunt made up for the “inconvenience” of the journey.  Did you ever notice that the older you get, the longer the hike?  “Even over the same path”?

Our Waushara County topographical map shows variances in elevation of two or three hundred feet, but I really never paid much attention.  But lately I notice that it takes more effort to traverse from the White Pines, past Bench 3, up past the Cottonwoods to the Southwest Corner.  It is only a leisurely fifteen minute walk, but my body makes it seem longer.  Do you think the earth’s surface may be stretching and the distance is actually further?  Or could it be shrinking and shriveling the surface, making the hills higher.  The elasticity seems to be making the hikes a little longer…..but so what if the trails are longer?  What better place to be than in the Woods.

The Hurrier I Go, The Behinder I Get

I must admit that this old saying was pilfered from an ancient Dutch or German philosopher much wiser than I.  It can probably be more easily related to the pace of our current social existence as almost any other---EXCEPT---the favorite expression of an old friend who had the challenging job of installing aircraft instruments into spaces invariably inadequate in size or capacity.  Upon undertaking an installation, he would commonly be heard muttering that it was like….”PUTTING TEN POUNDS OF POOP INTO A FIVE POUND BAG”

Whenever one becomes frustrated over the ability to cope with all of the responsibilities and distractions of life, we should remember that, like the old friend, the instruments usually ended up installed and operational.  Even though the challenges appear to be insurmountable, the pile-often referred to as the “to do list”- eventually goes down and sanity reappears.

While talking to a neighbor about about comparable to do lists, I facetiously remarked that I was waiting for a strong East wind.  That failing, I would tackle the leaves, which were number 14 on the list, unless they are covered by a foot of snow.

But first, Deer Hunting.