Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Things you DON'T regret

One thing I don't regret, was at 18 years old, I told my boss, at my $4.00/hr lumber yard job, that I was leaving to go see my Grandpa in the hospital because he went into a coma.

He yelled at me and told me that if he's in a coma, he won't know you're there anyway! After a heated discussion, I told him I'm leaving and I don't care what you say.

See, I used to take care of my grandparents yard as a youth and me and Grandpa always played "mercy" (where you lock fingers and try to bend the others backwards until they say mercy).

Being an old farmer that thrashed, He ALWAYS won but said he wanted to see how strong I was getting. He chuckled the whole time while I was trying my hardest.

Anyway, I got to the hospital where the family was sitting around crying because they knew it was close to the end. They said he was gone but still breathing.

I went up and grabbed my Grandpa's hand and told him I was there. He squeezed my hand so hard my fingers turned white. I could hear his chuckle even though he couldn't make it physically.

The family saw this and he passed shortly after.

I'm SO glad I wasn't too intimidated by my boss to not leave that day.

Good for you!

Wow, hell of a story Rooster! Glad you got to be there.

I told a boss to pound sand and went to a concert.

Not the same.

Except telling the boss to pound sand.

My grandpa didn't like heavy metal so he wasn't there.

Good on you Rooster7. I had a similar experience sans the job conflict. Greatest Generation is no bull.

No doubt Boom. I used to love waking up early on Memorial Day and walking or riding my bike up to the Church to see the Vets (including Grandpa) march down the road to the Church and do the 21 gun salute with the M1's over the cemetery.


I was always the only kid there it seemed...

Living my life now instead of serving a sentence being somebody's wage slave counting the days till retirement.

That's a good one heli.

Rooster... lost my grandfather recently and yours is a great story so thanks for making me smile.
When I would see my grandpa at the top of the steps upon arriving at his house, there was always the shake hands hard and see who would cry uncle first type of game...
In the early years he always had the edge but faked the struggle to give us hope...
Then the days came when us kids had the advantage and squeezed his hand so hard he had to concede.
As the years went on our hands got bigger and stronger and his got smaller and weaker..
But the game never changed. Your story reminded me of that game we used to play, and for that I thank you.

Thanks Certifiable. That makes me feel good.

The thing with Grandpa though, his eyes gave out, his ears gave out, his knees gave out and he was pretty much confined to sitting in a chair.

But the one thing that didn't give out were those old farmer hands. I was in football, Tae Kwon Do and lifted weights. Even after all that, that man would just laugh at me when we played mercy.

My grandfather was 5'8" or so... I was a skinny 6'4" at 14. He made me understand what strength was (dairy farmer) but he lived very, very long and healthy. Never touched a basketball himself but made me understand how to intend to keep one away from everyone else.

Moving to Alaska.

Taking off three months to care for my dad at home after he was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. My children have many fond memories of dinners and jokes and stories sitting around the kitchen table with their Grandpa during that time. My two oldest and I were along side him holding his hands when he passed.

Playing high school football. Paying for it now, knee hurts a little. Best days of my life.

Not moving to Vegas.
My wife had been a blackjack dealer in Sin City in the 1980's-early 90's. Took me out there on our honeymoon, hoping I'd want to move there. I had three job offers for armed security there, but I explained to my wife that Mom was in N.J., and being her only son, I had a very real obligation to be there for her as she neared the end of her life. Six years later, after mom's doctor told me that she didn't have two weeks left, I was there for her every step of the way, and held her in my arms as she passed just ten days later. As painful as it was for me, I wouldn't have been anywhere else. My wife understood. She loved my mom more than she had ever loved her own mother.

Things I don't regret:

Skin/scuba diving
Flying choppers in Nam
Telling Bell Helicopter I would not train pilots in Iran
ATC career
Retiring
Gun Loony Certificate
Topping 90 mph in 3' seas in one of my old boats
The drop on a 20' wave
Banzai Pipeline
Flying a DC10
Sailing a 12 meter boat
Deanna Wadkins
There's more...

Yup. That and enlisting in the Army. Actually, marching in Uncle's legions set me on the path to being here and what was to follow.

Leaving south Florida. And moving back to Florida to help out with my dad who's 93 and starting to show his age.

Not moving to Alaska....

Day 1
Ft Benning
July 12th 1983
Pretty comical toliet bowl flush Puerto Rican " drill sgt " faking the
funk at the reception center.
Incompetent types need that type of self satisfaction in front of unfamilar trainees.


LOL!!!!

The Corps!