A friend of mine was surprised to learn recently that I wasn�t interested in shooting a gun. The reason for that is easy to understand, too simple to need detailed explanation.

The fact is that I�m tired, guys. Nothing desperate. Nothing complicated. Nothing profound. Nothing to complain about or to cry about. Not depressed. Not fishing for pity. Just simply tired. That�s only normal for a worn-out ol' husk.

I�m tired of shooting. Tired of hunting. Tired of guns. Tired of writing. Tired of out-living cherished long-time friends who were younger than me. All the gun things have lost their obsessive fascination. I�m just flat worn-out, that�s all. Simply worn-out.

I�ve been hunting since the early 1930s. Lost count, years ago, of the critters that I�ve killed and caught. Of the places that I�ve hunted. Of cherished, irreplaceable hunting partners who�ve died and left me behind. Even the memories are losing their savor.

Lost count of the nice guns (hundreds?) that I�ve owned. The cartridges and other gun stuff that I�ve designed and built, some for myself, some for others.

I�ve been writing since 1946 (published since 1947). Lost count, long ago, of the stuff that I�ve written through the years � from poetry and essays though several kinds of books. Hundreds.

My old friends are dying faster than I�m making new ones.

I have very few kin left � none close enough for visits.

The only thing that still gives me pleasure is fellowship with friends. I have many good friends, thankfully, but haven�t met most of �em face-to-face. Most are too far away for visits, so fellowship these days runs awfully thin, few, and far between.

Campfire Sh�thead is right � I�m the guy whom he called a �miserable old bastard,� but I�m not the guy �who refuses to die.� I�m a guy for whom happiness will be that fine, dusty, gray powder that comes out of the crematorium, with the dental gold sifted out.

That ol� sweet chariot that�s soon a-comin� for to carry me Home can�t come too soon or swing too low to suit me. But I can�t wade that gulf, so I�ll just wait for it. Ready to go get some rest.

A decade or more ago, I wrote this little thing for my family and friends �

Mon Bon Voyage

If pine trees sigh when I die,
Let no one ooze a tear.

If grass turns brown as angel�s frown,
It�s not �cause I�m not here.

If the sky be blue, let none of you
When sets my last day�s sun.

Where grass is green, let you be seen,
One and all, having fun.

IOW, don�t mourn, don�t miss me, celebrate! I'll be gettin' some rest!

When your day comes heaven will be a better place..God Bless!!! Woody

Ken, I really hear ya re: the 'tired' thing..

I've lost interest in a lot of things over the last couple years.. Now, I'm wondering just what the heck I'm gonna do with all the firearms related 'stuff' I've accumulated..

The thought of moving all this out to SD makes me wanna curl up in a fetal position..

Ken, if this is "tired", I sure would have loved to have met you when you were a spring chicken!

I also wish I were closer, for I enjoyed my visit more than you know.

I hope your day is full of wonder and bright surprises!

Ed

Life is a lesson in "letting Go". Learn that lesson well and learn it young. It will serve you well through the years.

And the planet earth, the campfire in particular a much sadder & poorer place.

Yes that age & health thing makes us all old and miserable. Only human nature to lose interest in things of the past that made us smile.

Its mutch worse to be young and so miserable that your pleasure comes from calling others miserable old bastards. GW

Ken,

Have a dear friend that is like you. Had a long, productive life and has so many medical issues, she is just ready to go join her husband. I know where your at but still find myself looking for your posts on the campfire. They ALWAYS bring a smile to my face. When you go, you will be missed more than you know. Ray

I get that way when I read "Ecclesiastes".

Less reading , more writing[on the 'fire] is in order!

A clear & succinct dissertation, sir.

Never met you, never expect to, but my remembrance & mental picture of you from your writing & comments here will be long.

When the time comes, I wish you a safe & easy journey; sometimes, regardless of what some may think, when there is little to live for, there is simply little to live for.

My Best Regards,

MM (Bill)

Well, Ken, at least you can brag you've done just about everything. So that's worthy, eh?

It is funny how time changes our perspectives and priorities. I have become more thoughtful and less brash as I get older. I think more about other�s perspectives. I feel very sorry for some people like my parents that never have really �lived�. Those that are just going through the motions and never really enjoyed life; those that know the cost of everything but the value of nothing�..

I enjoy reading your posts, and hope you find peace while still on this earth. I know your insight is still valued here. I just listened to this scripture while driving to work this morning. It�s one of my favorites. 2nd Tomothy 7-8 �I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day�and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. �

Dave, I'd like to keep at 'em until I can do some of 'em well, but I'm just too "give out." As the old saying goes, I've got a hitch in my git-along � and this time, it's total and permanent.

Sir, I hope that day is a good ways off. I learn a little something pretty much every time I read one of your posts, even when you're tired.

Indeed.! I got to the Campfire late and enjoy reading your posts. You're quite the linguist and can say more with less, better than just about anybody I've ever seen.

My grandma complains "she doesn't have any friends cause she's outlived em all".! I guess we're all going to get to that point sooner or later.

I've come to appreciate your wit and I imagine you've got quite a sense of humor. When I saw the thread title, it made me thing of this.

Hope you can stick around for a while longer, if not, I hope you have a peaceful journey.

I understand, friend. I understand.

I'll see ya on the other side.

Ken

Doesn't mean I have to like where you are in life. But I think I can certainly understnad it, and if not fully, then later in life I"ll more clearly understand.

Godspeed to you and as we all know, there is a reason for everything, God has you here for a reason still. For me, I think its someone we can look up to on the campfire.

But when the time comes, I'll shed a tear with a smile on my face and thank God that you are with him.

Jeff

I understand completely. You seem to be experiencing the tiredness of life that grips those of us who journey too near the curtain. It is a long journey, toward uncertainty through a world that never approaches our expectations of what it should be. We expect great things, treasures that enrich and enrapture us and never fade, only to find that everything we love and treasure changes and is lost. For me these things were my expectations, my goals and my desires, yet all proved no more real than a shimmering mirage dancing on the drifting sands of time�s wasteland.

My first lesson was that each day is a separate reality, that we are on a journey through time and history that we never expected or desired. We laud and covet things and circumstances that once grasped turn to sand rapidly pouring through our fingers. Parents and family die, some unexpectedly, some in ways so languishingly torturous as to provoke disbelief at the horror. Friends and acquaintances come and go. They are so valuable to us for the companionship and discourse we share, only to be plucked from us by death, or distance, or merely a receding of interest. My second lesson was that the world changes our possibilities. When I was a boy, my desire was to be a railroad engineer driving those monstrous black steam locomotives. How was I to know that before my thirteenth birthday this possibility would fade irrevocably into history? Where I found myself at age eighteen was working in the horse show business, gaited Saddlebred Horses, Hackney Ponies, and American Standardbreds. It appealed to my anachronistic nature, a throwback to a cabinet of Edwardian curiosities. Yet this too lasted a little less than a decade, for I changed with age and circumstances, and tired of long trips by rail and van to fairgrounds for weeks at a time. Lesson three was most frightful of all, that I myself was subject to change. Everything about me was also on a journey through change, where the present becomes the past, experience becomes memories, and I myself am becoming history.

Through it all my interest in firearms remained steadfast, a comfort if you will. There were new guns to be purchased, loads to be tested, ideas to be tried, competitions to play with, custom rifles to be commissioned. I never much liked hunting, being allergic to most game meat except wild pig. So I took up varmint hunting, little targets at long range. I read everything I could get my hands on. Curiously, this too began to change at about age sixty. First, I noticed the gun magazines were not as interesting as they once were. Nothing much was being discussed that was new to me, or enticing as it once was. Same old stuff, hashed over and reheated. I find myself toying with the idea of allowing my subscriptions to lapse. Everything seems to be less important. Yes, I still go varmint hunting, as I did last Wednesday, and enjoy trips to Oregon to hunt with my old friend I have known since age twelve. My guess is that I caught a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of the reality behind it all, that this isn�t the real world, the final destination.

Now I wonder what it all means. Were we mere analog creatures in some Great Experiment? Could there be another reality, akin to a digital world where everything is more to our expectations? There is a question for a tired and disillusioned mind to contemplate. Maybe this too is part of the plan, to prepare for the setting aside of the things of this world only to take up those of the next. I wonder?

I find the older I get, the more interesting heaven looks. I've a lot of family and friends there.

With age comes knowledge, Mr. Howell, and you possess a lot of it. You will not spend one day longer, or one day less, on God's green earth than he intended. So, share what you know with others that others will be blessed as The Good Lord has blessed you with knowledge and skill. Emulate yourself.

For we are not merely receptors of God blessings but it's streams and arteries delivering it wherever God wills. Otherwise, we would be like The Dead Sea with only an inlet and no outlet.

God bless you sir.

Ken,

I understand and appreciate what you're saying. It's easy to to lose interest in activities.

The one thing I will always have is a great admiration for nature and all if it's beauty. A sunset, a view of the mountains, birds, wildlife, a stream, a lake ........

Don't forget about these treasures in life. It doesn't always have to involve an activity to put a smile on your face.

Best wishes,

fish head

There have been many good thoughts explained very well in this thread. I have found it to be very beneficial. (I do have to admit that when I saw the title, my first thought was of the Teutonic Titwillow singing her song in "Blazing Saddles".)

I've always wondered about your hat in the photo. Is it a repo of an early Calvary hat?

O

Seems the fellowship you have found here is of the highest regard . No matter how tired you are , your posts here are as close as some can get to meeting you face to face.
Those that have and also those that have not yet had the chance to meet you express the same feelings as I think the above posts are truely heartfelt and geniune.
A few years ago , and probably still today you will point out my spellin ' and gramar mistakes . I'm no writer or verseman .
But , after reading your poem from a decade ago I was reminded of this one from ( I believe is from ) Robert Service :

A Verseman's Plea

If I should ever wax poetic...

If I should ever wax poetic
Please let me be apologetic;
For every verseman by mistake
A bit of poetry may make;
And sometimes it is really hard
Not to become a half-baked bard.

For stubbornly I dare to say
Pretentious poets of today
Are verseman ninety-five per cent;
And if censoriously bent,
You score out verse with pencil deft
You'll find there's mighty little left.

Yes, you may even play this game
With laureates of classic fame,
For those you designate divine
Have printed many a prosy line . . .
What, then, you may demand of me
Do you consider Poetry?

Originality of phrase,
Imaginatively ablaze;
The word unique, the magic fire,
That haunt, illumine and inspire;
Not lyric lilt, nor rhyme precision,
Not though, not melody. - just VISION.

So in most poems, to my mind,
Ninety per cent of verse you'll find;
Cull out the pure poetic strains
And mostly vulgar verse remains.
- Well, better verse of worthy weight
Than poems less than second-rate.

I just wanted to say that I've always enjoyed your posts, Ken. Thanks.
---

The Irony!

The Moors attacked the village
The Christians ran and died
The smithy crushed and ruined
As was their Latin pride

And Rome was late in coming
No swords to protect the throngs
The Visigoths were slaughtered
Though the knights arrived anon

Their vestments mussed and wrinkled
The Knights of the Holy See
The forge was gone! No flame did burn!
Oh, the irony!

Ken,
You may be tired, yet you have managed, in that one post, to contribute to many of us. Your thoughtful, considered words are as valuable as ever. My day is enlightened because of you, thank you.

Ken,
I had a talk with my Navy Dad about enthusiasms and aging a couple of years ago...we ended up agreeing that, for many, interests tend to boil down and dry up about the time you finally realize you aren't going to get any better than you now are.
Then the choice becomes whether to fight the decline, sneak around it (the age-and-treachery thing) or find something else you stink at until you can't get any better at it any more. We further agreed that the choice separates the stickers from the dilletantes.
Fact is, over time you not only got good, but advanced the art. So yer entitled.

I'm tired of the woe is me posts on the 'Fire------------------------------------------------------

Ken, i wish we had shared campfires, coffee, and venison-and pray we will.

it is OK to be tired ...

No, the early Calvary hat is more of a crown. (of thorns!)

Sycamore

Mr Howell

As far as I'm aware of...your mind is still good therefore it is YOUR DUTY to convey to those younger than you the many gigabytes of stored knowledge that you have been blessed with....granted onto you by an Almighty God that has blessed you with a long and fruitful life! I'm not as far along in years as you; I'm only 71 years old and yes....I too get tired but I'm not going to quit...I will be a fighter until there is one breath of life in me! As General George Patton stated...."the mere thought of losing is hateful"! Each year I grow older I find and continually discover that my grandchildren are truly a blessing; whether I'm passing on to them my loves of hunting, shooting, baseball, football, a drive through the Rocky Mountains, or just sharing with them things of interest that I have witnessed down through the years! And if this were not done...from whence shall they learn it?? After I am gone...my experiences will be forgotten unless...these are passed on to those I love! With respect sir....yes...IT IS YOUR DUTY to pray to our Lord Almighty for strength to continue to use your mind and intellect to further the knowledge of those less fortunate than yourself!

Good day sir!

Sir, your words, as usual, have more meaning because they come from you. I am beginning to feel as you do. You can be assured you have countless friends here on the "Fire" as well as around this wonderful country of ours. My hope for me personally is that I can make a difference in how this country is going before I have to leave it all behind. Good luck to you and enjoy every moment you have here.

Good luck my friend even thought I don't know you. I get that way and You know what, I going to sell my things before my group does and then woundn't know what to do with it any way.When I was younger an money was there I got things now at 65 no big thing is it. Hope your people think of you alot I surly do. I know for mr its been a good ride

Can't tell whether you are being flippant or glib - or somewhere in between - but would agree that "woe is me" is to be avoided. With that in mind, maybe you enjoyed Dr. Howell's post, because I did not read any "woe" in there. Maybe we are good at finding the emphasis we seek.

Hhmph.

Your message is clear, understood and accepted.

I am unknown to you but for a PM or three, some prayers I've had in your direction and a care package from my kids.

I have learned much though reading your words, both the assembly and the message.

Know that your typing fingers reach long and far and I will continue to enjoy what you choose to share. I will also celebrate your life, the little I know about it, and strive to write just a bit better when my fingertips strike the keyboard.

Sir may I say that this world is a better place with you in it.

Aw, c'mon, Paul!

You know very well that we grown-ups have to take genteel pity on the poor puerile Campfire coprophagists who suffer perpetual pangs of penile fantasies that excessive cloacal capsicum exacerbates. Can't expect 'em to know the difference between "whoa" and "woe."

Utah Lefty's post has made me far more fatigued than I already was.

I am also in full agreement with your post above, well said Sir.

Ken,

You have a LOT of friends right here, and this place is a damn sight better for having you. While I�m half your age (and that still means I�m old), I understand how you get tired. But we�re never tired of you. So you just keep on keeping on, and know we all love you my friend. Like I said, I wish I lived in the same time zone as you; I�d love to just come spend a day with you.

I pretty well know how you feel Friend Ken but we just have to keep on keeping on don't we.

I hope you recharge soon.

Heck Ken, I felt kind of special one day when you corrected my grammar. Ken

I can understand the "tired", especially from one who has fought as long and hard against so many health and personal, problems. As to losing friends and loved ones, it is the measure of growing older. None of us knows where or when our sand will run out. Only that it will.
When Mom was around 74, I had stopped by the house to see her. She was writing out a sympathy card. She had a file box full of cards for different occasions. She told me, "I'm getting tired of writing out these damn things. I had six, and this is the last one. Every time I get more, I end up sending them out right away." I thought for a second (a long time for me ) and asked, "Would you rather be sending them or receiving them?" She said, 'I have to go to town tomorrow anyway."
I know your tired, Ken, but there's a lot of love and respect for you here at the fire, and around the rest of the country as well.
Illegitimi non carborundum.
Mike

Ken,
I think everyone who has come to �know� you through your writings, whether it be your books, articles, poetry or posts on the Campfire secretly aspires to be at least a little bit like you in one way or another. That sir is an achievement, but one I�m sure you didn�t plan. When your time comes you will be missed by me.

Bob

Ken,
I don't know if you recall, but you and I had this very discussion when you were in the hospital here. It was when you were in with the bad infection, and things were touch and go for a bit. It pained me then, and it pains me now. My feeling remains the same though, and I will say again what I said that night to you in the ICU.

On the day that the ineveitable happens it will be a strange mix of emotions for me. Part of me will be joyful for you. Knowing that you are finally at rest, and with your beloved Carol Anne. The other part of me with be woefully saddened at the loss of my good friend... I suspect I will meet that news with welled up eyes, and like a smile knowing your relief.


That said... until that day you're stuck with us. Even if Kent thinks he is your favorite.

Sy..,

Yeah, I caught the misspel after I posted but figgered WTF. Wasn't doing it for my Masters And we still don't know about the hat.

O

No, the hat's a very modern summer thing � fabric affair with a mesh crown to let the ol' noggin enjoy the benefit of the breeze. (Does nothing for the evaporation of stupidity, alas! )

Got it from www.sportsmansguide.com, where it's still available � on sale now for le$$ than I paid. Had two � gave the other one to a Campfire compadre.

The hat band is an add-on that a late friend gave me at one of the Varmint Hunters Association jamborees several years ago.

http://www.sportsmansguide.com/net/cb/cb.aspx?a=181569

Hope you hang in there for a while yet Ken. I'm still waiting for that book for those of us who would like to improve our writing skills. I've been working at it for 30+ years but I never get tired of learning.
Jerry

Perpetual pangs of penile fantasies that excessive cloacal capsicum exacerbates.

Now that's got style !

Thank- you Ken


In times of whoa- how about a few of those jokes - like ya told at the get together!

Mr Howell, I had to go to the dictionary to get a definite meaning for three of those words. Glad I did. In the words of of Larry the cable guy "I don't care who ya are, that funny right there". At least after you get it. hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Stay with us as long as you can, the campfire wouldn't be the same without you.

Dave.

Ken, I hope I make it to your age. Hang in there.

� "Tell me a joke" always draws a blank � something hasta remind me of this or that ol' joke (or episode) that I may not've thought-of for as long as seventy years. In memory especially, storage is one thing, retrieval another.

� Nowadays, fewer and fewer Campfire threads remind me of good jokes.

� Some of the best ones are too long and too tedious to type by "the Biblical system" (seek and ye shall find). Typing one can take an hour or more but only a minute or two to tell. I often spend hours typing one in Microsoft Word (leaving it for a while and returning to it from time to time), then later pasting it into a Campfire post. It ain't easy bein' senile!

� And some of the best ones can't be told in writing or on the 'phone.

How about the one about the kid & the puppy?

Remind me next summer, when we get together again at Quemado Lake!

Sorry!

Don't know which one you're referring-to.

Oh... it's not really family-friendly anyway.

Ken, you done choked me up.

Sounds like the jar of water, that is you, shall soon only fracture, and you'll then get to join the ocean, which is to say everything that is, again. You came from there. Remember? It's perfect...

Ain't one bad thing about that. The effort of being human is the damn separateness. Going back home is effortless.

You take care sir.

The only such old joke that comes to mind right now is this very ancient oldie �

A man in a public place saw that something was dripping from a big box that a kid was carrying. From behind him, he got a sample of the liquid on his finger. He couldn't identify it by taste, so he tapped the box and asked the boy �

"Heinekin's?"

"Puppies."

I'm tapping this out on a phone so here's the Cliff Notes version...

Dad takes young son to the park. There, they see two dogs having relations. Kid: "dad, what are they doing?! Dad has that oh-chit prickly sweat feeling then, in a flash of parenting genius, says: "They are making puppies, son!" Kid nonchalantly says, oh, ok...

They go home and do family stuff... dinner, bath, bedtime stories.

Everyone goes to bed. Kid wakes up with a horrible nightmare. Frightened, he runs into his parent's room! Mom and dad are having relations. "Mom! Dad! What are you DOING?!" Panic ensues, until dad, remembering his flash of genius, says honey, I'll handle this.

"Son, we were making a baby."

The tension drains from the kid's face. All is well in the suburbs. Thumb in mouth, kid turns to leave but pauses to say:

"well, flip her over, Dad. I'd rather have a puppy!"

A young brave accosted the chief �

"Me hot. Need squaw!"

"How many summers you?"

The boy flashed five fingers three times.

"Ugh! Too young! One more summer!"

"Ugh! Me hot now! Need squaw! What I do one more summer?"

"Practice."

"How practice? No squaw!"

"Find tree. Knot hole. Practice."

A year later, the young brave accosted the chief again and demanded a squaw, as promised. The chief brought a young squaw forward. The young brave bade her grab her ankles, and when she did, he gave her rump a mighty clout with a club and sent her sprawling.

"Why do that?" the puzzled chief asked.

"Check for bees."

^ ^ good one - lol

yep - - - it's in the tellin that makes most jokes ,great ones - didnt think about that -- thats true about jokes

Well that was certainly uplifting!

I personally hope to see more of that writing, in the future

Must be I missed something.

Who's the SOB that said this?


Speaking of jokes, anything with a punchline of, "Wrecked him?!? Damn near killed him!" is funny.

A bunch of us were enjoying a "tasting" at a winery on the Rhine. As the gaiety grew, one of our guys told the "check for bees" joke � in a much longer, much more elaborate version than the above � and the crowd roared and rolled.

The German who ran the winery didn't have enough English to "get" it, so my friend Wolf (a German who'd been educated in England � spoke English with a veddy proppa British accent) retold it in German for him. There weren't any German translations for some of the American words, which Wolf therefore had to use untranslated. Thus we who had no German could tell, at several points, just where he was in the joke that we'd just heard. Wolf's enunciaton of the American words enriched the retelling for us "colonists."

Bunches of belly laughs all around the table for the second time.

Then the winery guy roared with laughter at the end of the joke, and we all roared and rolled for the third time.



Yep, the tellin' o' the tale is its white corpuscles (irrespective of whether the audience is drunk, sober, or gettin' drunk).

And I've been sitting here thinking of three thigh-slappers in which the punch "lines" are unwritable gestures and facial expressions. They'll have to wait until we're lookin' at each other.

Remind me � (a) the North Dakotan and the fish tank, (b) the guy who made a cat into a road rug, and (c) the black gal in the "wrong" donor line.

Telling his name here now wouldn't do anybody any good. Besides, he's a deservedly appreciated Campfire member with a passel of good posts. His contempt for me and his stalking of me onto one thread after another are just minor quirks. We've never met, but I assume (and I've heard) that he's a good guy. Really.

And so are you--really!

Thanks! If only the flattery were true!

Oh, by the way � meant to ask you last month at the lake � isn't mudhen an old parlor name for coot? CLEVV-ERR!

Hey, Dr. Ken. . .

We have unfinished business. I got your copy of a book autographed by one of YOUR FANS and purchased another new tome for your edification, which he also autographed.

'Shoulda been dedicated to you. It's about getting published!

See you in a couple of weeks. Hang in there unless other instructions from a higher court are received.