High school me was always that kid who is a good athlete, has the in with athletic friends, but never sees them outside of school. I was okay with that. High school me was also the kid who did well in school, who spoke when called upon, did what he needed, and then went home. But I was okay with that. When senior year rolled around, I found myself surrounded by a group that had a reputation for partying and living a "lavish" kind of life. While the stories and events I would hear sounded pleasing, I would have rather spent my Friday night playing cribbage, or sitting around the table with a tender, medium rare, bacon wrapped venison steak in front of me. I didn't think anything of it until I packed my dad's truck to the brim, and headed off to Luther College in northeast Iowa. Little did I know, that these weekends as a senior in high school would be what prepares me for my future.
Fall semester my senior year of high school was filled with football practices, games, and of course, homework. An exhausting amount of work got me antsy for the weekend. Fall weekends were my favorite; especially days between October 1st and November 30th. These dates mark the start and end dates of the Iowa archery season. Now, I may not be the best bow hunter there is, but spending a Saturday night in a tree stand guarantees you at least one thing: a beautiful night in God's country. There's just something about watching a herd of a dozen deer graze around in a clover plot that takes away all my stresses from the week. Picture this, sitting ten feet in the air, behind you a waving, one acre plot of golden-tan switchgrass reaching seven feet tall. Directly in front of you, another single acre plot of a dark green clover plot with white flowering tops. Then just beyond that, an acre of unpicked soy beans. Take this image, and wrap it with a forest; but not completely, leave some room to watch the sun turn the sky a burnt orange and red color. There really is not much more that beats spending time in the wilderness with a family member.
I never guessed that the numbers 15 and 31 would be important in my family, not because of athletics, but because of a simple card game, cribbage. My father taught me how to play the year I started going with him on a fishing trip to Canada (a little over 10 years ago). From that moment until my sister moved off to college (they would resume when she'd come back to visit), countless games were played at the dinner table. There were nights where we would stay up until 9:30-10:00 (I know, what night owls we were) playing game after game after game of cribbage. One game would turn into another, that game would turn into a seven game, best of four series; I felt like I was playing in the World Series. Sometimes, they would turn into a race to win three of these seven game series; these would span across two or three days. They also brought out a lot snarky laughter and banging of fists (and occasionally heads) on the table when frustration strikes.
Looking back at all these family cribbage "tournaments" or hunting adventures, I came to realize that when we put away our technology and get to know the people who care about us the most, it is incredible what we can accomplish. I was raised in a fashion that showed me how a family is supposed to function. My parents brought me up in a way that prepared me for the future. They nailed my sister and I on the importance of respect and responsibility. This was true for everything we did, even athletics. My father made me respect the games, other players, and everyone involved in every sport that I participated in. He disciplined a kid with an easily angered disposition. Momma taught me how to be responsible with everything I did. From getting my school work done, to making sure I pick up after myself; whether that be my room or a baseball game (she still gets on to me every time I cook). All I can do is tip my cap and say thank you. Thank you for turning this semi socially awkward kid into a professional, in the real world.
