I’m in a bit of a revelatory trance these days as I come to the realization that without me going through my Brain Cancer quest, without being divorced, without my continually depleted body, without being extracted from Fort Wayne, I would not have had the priceless experience with David Raymond Miron this past Sunday.
In the land of very few grouse, us Eagle Eye Mirons spotted a total 0f (5) birds and were able to harvest (2).
Our conversations were minimal.
We talked about Grandpa Ray and the Miron bloodline, the power of family knowledge + wisdom, gardening, and the pride and honor that goes with being called a Yooper.
We’re a tough fuck’n breed.
Sure, we’re stubborn.
Yet it takes a certain stubborn willingness to survive tragedies and hard times.
To get through the storms, polished, prepared….AWARE of our abilities.
“Life ain’t all Sunshine and Rainbows.”
There inevitably will be hard times.
Death comes to us all.
Yet we can smile at
I put our Qwik hunting trip into a short video:
(Rocky Balboa makes an appearance)
Love you, Dad.
Yer one helluva Yooper.