LESSONS IN HUMILITY

[catdaddy]

HUMILITY: A lack of false pride or a modest opinion of one's own importance or rank

Admittedly, I come from a family that contained an oversupply of braggadocios. As a result, I was naturally inclined to "toot my own horn' when presented with half a chance. My dad said that was totally acceptable since "I was the only one that knew the tune".  However, with age come life lessons of humbling experiences and as a result I have made a concerted effort to enhance my humility skills. My dear departed Australian mother-in-law once gave me a good hearted piece of advice. She said "Tom, you know it's always the tall poppy that gets mown down" (note to reader, you'll have to add your own Australian twang here since it is dang near impossible to type with an Aussie accent). My sweet mother once told my brother who was prone to settle disputes in less than a diplomatic way "You know John Mark (everybody else called him "Bulldog'), even that big mouth Mohammad Ali who proclaimed to be The King of the World got his hat handed to him by Joe Frasier, Ken Norton, Leon Spinks and Larry Holmes, the same thing can happen to you". Unfortunately for Bulldog, Mamma's advice turned out to be very prophetic on more that one occasion. My dear mother was not prone to anger, but I have to say the maddest I ever saw her was the time Bulldog showed up at church to be one of the Wise Men in her annual Christmas play sporting a huge back eye he had received the night before. This weekend would be a continuation of my life long lesson in humility---no matter your accomplishments or talents, most of us don't have to look too hard to find that there is someone else that can do it better.

I picked up my good friend Joe Slaton at the Memphis airport on Thursday morning. The trip  for us did not begin on a good note since Joe's shotgun did not arrive with the same punctuality that Joe did. After some calls back and forth with the baggage people, we gave the airline Jody Love's address ( REBELYELL) in Brookhaven MS and then headed south down Interstate 55 towards our first destination, Poppas Fish House. We had lunch with Jody, Robin (Preacher), Ricky (Vaturkey) and Ricky's friend Ronnie. We had us a "sho nuff" feast of a southern Mississippi lunch. It was an all you could eat buffet that included fried catfish (of course), fried yard bird, field peas with ham hock, cornbread and banana pudding for desert. As my sideways profile would indicate, I feel like I can eat as much any grown man, but after observing Joe's expertise in arranging the taller foods on the outside rim of the plate so the peas and hushpuppies would not roll off, I wondered if I had perhaps met my match. After observing Joe consume his second bowl of banana pudding, I had the feeling that this dude from California could most probably give me a run for my money in an eating contest. At the time, I should have considered this observation as an omen of things to come.

After a good lunch with great fellowship, we took a few group pictures and then made our way out to my truck to drag out a few turkey calls to show each other. We yelped, clucked and gobbled right there in the parking lot without turning any heads. I pulled out a trumpet call I had been dutifully practicing on and told the group "Hey ya'll, listen to me play this thing and give an honest opinion of how I sound". After I was done, nobody said a word---I guessed their silence was not in amazement of how good it sounded so I humbly and without fanfare put it back in my bag.  A little later, Joe and I walked over to Jody's truck so he could get a shotgun Jody had brought for Joe to use until the airline decided to deliver his. The shotgun had a Burris red dot aim point on it and both Joe & I tried it out right there in the parking lot. I mentioned to Joe later "Man, you have got to love it down here in S Mississippi—where else could you go and play turkey calls in the parking lot and check out the aim point on a shot gun without anyone giving it a second look"

Joe and I spend the next three days hunting near Union Church, MS with my friend Clint Barnes. The terrain was all cutover timber and replanted pines with a mile long creek bottom of hardwoods. It was hard hunting but we got on gobbling birds everyday. On Friday we drove into town for a late breakfast/early lunch at the Waffle House. Man, I do love those scattered/covered and smothered hash browns. On the way back to camp we stopped in a county store to look around when we happened upon a gallon jug of pickled pig lips on the shelf. Joe is like "You guys eat these things down here!?!?!"  I responded "Well, some of the locals do—Democrats mostly"

Our hunt on Sunday was short since Joe and I planned to be at Strong Hope Baptist Church by 10:30 AM. After a quick shower, I realized I had forgotten to load my church clothes into the truck when I left home--all I had was camo and overalls. We had a few minutes to spare on the way to church so we stopped at Wal-Mart. It was the quickest I had ever bought a set of new clothes. In 10 minutes I had a pair of jeans, a short sleeve shirt and a belt. I went straight from the check out to the bathroom to put them on. I looked myself over the mirror to insure all the tags were gone----I thought I did pretty well given the time and resources I had to work with. I thought it was kinda weird buying church clothes at Wal-Mart a few minutes before going to church but I rationalized that I most probably was not the only person to have ever done this—especially in this part of the country. We got to the church at 10:30 AM and were promptly meet by Robin almost as soon as we walked in the door. Robin looked sharp in his suit and tie, a stark contrast to the hunting clothes I am more accustomed to seeing him wear. Strong Hope is a Southern Baptist church east of Hazlehurst MS in Copiah County. Being back in a church like this brought back a flood of memories, You see, on the opposite side of Copiah County, I was raised in a very similar country church--County Line Baptist Church. My dad was the preacher, my mother was the music director, my sister played the piano and I sang in the choir. My mother, sister and I also had a trio and we sang the special music at revival meetings and other like events. The Strong Hope congregation had a special treat in store for them this day since Joe was slated to sing the special music--it was official too since his name was right there in the church bulletin. Before Joe's special music and Robin's sermon, a fellow went to the pulpit to make the announcements and greet the congregation. He was a slight of statue, in his mid fifties and you could tell from the lines in is face and his tanned complexion he spent a lot time outdoors. He sported a pair of jeans, boots, and a plaid short sleeve shirt, He had a toothpick strategically placed in the corner of his mouth. He asked for the congregation to pray for MS Bessie Culpepper who broke her hip, Mr. Carl Ray Lewis who lost his father, MS Lula Bell Cater who had just been released from the hospital and so on and so on. I tell you, I barely heard any of the prayer requests;-----I was mesmerized by that tooth pick. With every word it bounded up and down in a rythmic visual cadence--that tooth pick seemed to be a natural part of him. Later this man came down and shook my hand--it was a solid strong handshake. It was one of those handshakes you wish you had known was coming so you could have been prepared for it. Then it was time for Joe to sing.  Robin announced " Now all the way from California--Joe Slaton!" I tell you this--Joe's performance was nothing short of impressive. It was a long song that literally ran though all the books in the bible--Joe never missed a beat or a word and was pitch-perfect. I closed my eyes and enjoyed Joe's music message to the fullest--it was nothing short of great. I had always thought of myself as a good singer, but Joe was tops for sure.

After Joe's special music, Brother Robin gave an excellent enlightening sermon which I really enjoyed. Robin's sermon was on the tenets of loving one another and not to have a spirit filled with back biting and malcontent. Robin said those qualities are downright useless in a person. To better illustrate he said "That's about as useless as a screen door on a submarine, and we all know there ain't no bugs under the water". I was thinking that a screen door was unless on a submarine since it would not keep the water out, but Robin's analogy worked just as well.        

After lunch at Robins, we headed back north, stopping at the County Line Church cemetery so I could put some flowers on my folk's grave. I showed Joe where I grew up and as we got closer I bragged that "there was not a house in a 5 mile radius of here that I have not been inside of". I showed him the church yard and the big cemetery my brother and I used to cut with push mowers for $35.00. We had so much to mow, we virtually never stopped. We started in the back, went toward the front and then started all over again. We thought we were rich earning $35.00 for several days of hard, hot work. I saved up enough of my half and bought a bolt action 410 shotgun from the Western Auto in Crystal Springs. After a few moments of reflection at the gravesite, we made the four hour trip back to my home in Memphis. Joe is a heck of a great riding partner. On the 8 hour round trip from and back to Memphis, we never turned on the radio. There were lots to good stories told on that journey. I learned that Joe was a good story teller too, and thankfully for me, and equally good listener. We made it back home about 6:00 PM, went out to my favorite Mexican restaurant and then to bed. The next day Joe was scheduled to fly back to California and we both tacitly knew it would be our last chance to score.

My penchant for bragging bit me right square in the buttocks the next morning. I sent Joe down a woods road in the middle of 1,250 acres and I guaranteed he would hear no less than three gobblers. I went the other way feeling good about giving up my "honey hole" to my good friend. I was lucky enough to get on a gobbler right at dawn. I worked him for a while but he got with some lady friends and began to fade off into a hardwood bottom----away from me. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and it was a text from Joe. Unbelievably, it seems the only gobblers he had heard that morning was over in my direction so I texted back for him to "Come on over my way mate!!". We hooked up with mutual set of owl hoots and hunted together for a couple of sets ups with out any action. The woods by this time of the morning had grown disappointedly quiet. I took Joe on a "walk about" pointing along the way places I had taken gobblers. We left a cow pasture and entered a woods road that was about 400 yards long and fed into a nice green field that I thought we should check out. We stopped along the way in hopes of eliciting a gobble, but to no avail. As we rounded a small bend in the woods road we were traveling on, the air and ground in front of literally erupted in turkeys----it was a herd of them I tell you! All Joe and I could do was to stand there and give each other a slack jawed look. We continued another 100 yards or so until we reached the green field which was very long but only 75 yards wide. I thought we should set up on one side where another little woods road came into the field but Joe said he would set up at the mouth of the road the turkeys were on. Joe's instincts were dead on. After 15 minutes or so of Joe and I making duel kee-kee calls at each other with a lost hen yelp thrown in for good measure, I saw 3 long beards coming down the road towards Joe. I wanted to make some kind of signal to let him know they were on the way but as it turned out, that was not at all necessary. Before they could enter the green field, I watched the lead gobbler meet his maker. Ole Jody would have been proud of the rebel yell that reverberated from Joe's mouth, I jumped up to join he festivities and let loose with a rebel yell of my own. I was glad Joe got this gobbler, especially since we had only 15 minutes or so left to hunt before we had to head back. I wondered, did I just simply guess wrong where the turkeys might enter the field or did Joe just instinctively know??  I had think to myself "We'll dang--looks like he can out turkey hunt me too"

[hobbes]

"Lessons In Humility"............never hurt any of us.

Good read.....thanks.

[bowhunter84]

 

[Hognutz]

Catdaddy.. That is not a story, that is an epic..You had me glued to the screen for the ten minutes it took to read that piece. If you wrote the Memphis phone book, I would read it cover to cover..And I don't know a soul in Memphis..Sounds like you cats had a good couple of days together. That is a wonderful thing. Did Joe ever get his gun? That looks like a Benelli there in the pictures..Well done, boys...Mike

[LX_Trkyhntr]

Great story Catdaddy!!!

[Gold Spur]

Great story Catdaddy. Can't say that I've ever had hog lips either.

[Reloader]

Great story catdaddy.  Congrats to both of you on a nice tom.

[OLE RASPY]

Great story catdaddy.As for the hog lips yall can havem.

[CB on the run]

Almost like I was there.

CB

[Flydown]

Great story Catdaddy. I always love reading your stories! I'm ready for the next one!

[TRKYHTR]

I was glued to the story and I lived it. Tom is a great guy and wonderful family man. Tom can also sure enough sing. I think next time a duet is in order. I loved every minute of the trip especially the time spent with Tom. The ride in the truck was just iceing on the cake. Tom has an uncanny ability to remember small details in almost every situation. We laughed alot and I laughed again reading about it all. I have had the fortune of hunting with some of the best turkey hunters in the world, at least I think, and Tom is right at the top of that group. Love you man and can't wait to get together again.

TRKYHTR

PS- It's better to be lucky than good.

[Hognutz]

Hog Lips? What is that all about? 

[CASH]

Another OUTSTANDING story Tom!   

[M,Yingling]

 

[FireDoc]

Very nice, thanks for posting this!