“What’s the problem. You walked your way in here, didn’t ya?”
Words of wisdom from my Uncle Joe, from somewhere in the middle of a cold, wet, black New Jersey swamp one late night during our many hunting adventures when I was a young teen. He kept leaving me behind and out of flashlight range as I dodged the brush and brambles, and I asked him how he thought I would ever find my way back if I lost him.
To him the answer was as plain as the nose on your face, which of course you could not see. It was always about self-reliance and accountability, for Uncle Joe.
For the greatest uncle a young boy could ever have. May He Rest in Peace, high in an oak tree of the Virginia hardwoods, with a recurve bow close at hand.