Might Mite

I teach Creative Writing at the High School, and when the kids write I do to. Mostly hometown stuff and hunting stories. I have been working on a small book with essays and stories about my family's life with hunting. This is just a small part ofthe first one...Just thought I'd share.

STORYTELLERS

One of my earliest and fondest childhood memories is sitting on the floor of my grandparent's livingroom, or at the foot of the couch in mountaintop cabin, and listening to the stories. The men in my family are story tellers. Not fictitious stories, but true, adventerous, mesmorizing stories that could keep any person entranced for hours. I still find myself today, twenty - five years later, entranced at the kitchen table, six years old again, listening. Seldom the same story twice. Only now, I have become part of the stories; have some of my own to tell. And my hope is that one day my own children listen, and grow to tell their own family stories, forever continuing the tradition of the storytellers.

My family is one of hunters, and the purpose of their hunting has evolved over he years from survival, to sport, to tradition. The purpose of our hunting now is tradition. Hunting together, enjoying the time, cherishing the beauty of our land and time together is what makes me fall in love with the season that sees the weather drop and the leaves fall from the trees. The animals that hang on my wall, and fill my photo album, could never replace the pictures that are kept in my memory, the times spent with my family, and the haritage being built for my children. It wasn't many years ago that my family's hunting served a different purpose. A West Virginia coal miner with four children, my grandfather hunted for survival. He hunted for food and he hunted for his family. He hunted without regards for seasons or tags, because how did the game warden in Canyon, West Virginia know if his babies were hungry?

South Central Pennsylvania and West Virginia have been the two places my family has called home for the past eighty years. My grandparents were born in West Virginia, and still have land there that we are lucky enough to call home today. The heritage, the survival, and the cherished time spent in these throwback Appilachian towns, are the sources of our stories. And although time has changed the faces of these beloved places, it can never change the memories which wil forever live on...as our story.

I recently read a book by Robert Wenger titled "Legendary Deer Camps." As I read the stories of famous camps such as the Buck Horn Tavern from Tuscola, Michigan and Elkhorn Ranch from Medora, North Dakota, I pondered the book's very title. Took the word "legendary" and put it in my heart; disected its very meaning. I nesteled back in my basement sofa, closed my eyes, and began a mental film strip of my family's own cabin in the backhills of West Virginia. Images flashed through my mind, and I was ten years old again, wading through waist high snow with an arm full of fire wood. I was seven years old, on my grandpa's lap while he played poker; the generator roaring in the background, powering the string of lights that lit the cigar-smoke filled kitchen. I could smell the smoldering gloves and felt boots just a tad too close to the stove, and see perfectly, the heavy pine branch displaying the first day's kill. I could picture myself, twelve years old again, standing on the front porch of that old cabin, and the stories that legends are made of came oozing through the cracks in the old wood siding. And I smiled, and reminisced about the days of 'ol. And as I took the word "legendary", and looked at it with my very heart, I knew that if ever there was a camp that deserved to be called legenday, it was ours- Buck's Camp- in the backhills of West Virginia. And as I glanced around my basement, filled with photos and memories, I smiled one last time, as I knew that these memories would continue yet again, adding another chapter to the lifelong book of the storytellers.

GMMAT

You tell a nice story.

I'd run it through grammar and spell-check before I sent it anywhere else, though.

Thats no slam on your effort.....which is nice....it's just a bit of advice.

Jeff

Might Mite

None taken...I have it saved in word already edited, this was just a small section I typed up quick here. Knew there would be some mistakes...just wanted to share the story.

GMMAT

And it's good. If you hadn't said you taught writing/grammar....I never would have said a word. And....it was all meant as just a "heads-up".

Keep it up.

jeff

Davoh

Greatpost MM... Great post

Gobbler, I'm taking away that 1 credit you got the other day.... Leave the story teller alone!

Never let things like grammer and spelling get in the way of a good story. As far as I'm concerned it shows the "nuance" of a storied(to be read "old" ) west virginia hunter.

I grew up alot like you, entranced and glued to my father and grandfather's hunting stories... heck any stories... As I've reached adult hood (I'm 24) and consider myself more edumacated and well-spokenthan my father, and especially in business environments, every timeI get nastalgic and talking and telling storiesabout my childhood, hunting, and fishing.... I start talking in that red-neck, back woods drawl of my father... My wife likes to tease me about it. My in-laws down right loathe it. But without it, they wouldn't be the same. Without it, the story loses it's luster... its "nuance"... it's authenticity...

GMMAT

I relinquish my credit......but I'd hate to take my car to the shop........and ask them what they thought of it...........

......and then have them ask me what I do.

"I'm a mechanic!"

Jeff

Still relinquishes the credit.....

Might Mite

Hey, I love grammar, but in my writing classes, we focus on the story first, and fix that stuff in the end. My post was quickly retyped and not proofread...I knew there would be mistakes...just wanted to share the story. If you want Gobblers, I will resubmit it in final copy form for a grade lol.