Grades or duck hunting

I started college when I was 25, and already with a family.

That required that I had to work a lot to pay my way, and of course the bills.

While I had several jobs, carried a full course load, I found time for personal activity.

I had a 16-gauge, single-shot shotgun and at the time enjoyed hunting.

I took a couple philosophy courses from a Professor Reeves, only slightly older than myself. He was one of the best professors at the school, and his classes reflected that.

Since I was older, Reeves and I were close, and during our chats he revealed that he was thinking about hunting ducks. We immediately teamed up and went out near Lake Lowell, a federal wildlife refuge.  

You couldn’t hunt on the refuge, but could on property just outside.

We would station ourselves in a corn field and Reeves would call the ducks in as they approached the refuge and the lake. He was good with a duck call.

We did this on several occasions.

I took a philosophy survey course and an ethics class from him. Both were pretty tough classes  and he didn’t suffer fools.

I was doing pretty well in both classes, but apparently not to his satisfaction, because one day he suggested that I pursue his classes with the same enthusiasm as my duck hunting.

That pretty much ended my duck hunting fun, but we remained friends.

In the spring, I made friends with a neighbor in the housing complex on campus and the two of us started bass fishing.  

We would drive about 20 miles away to the Boise River.  We found what became a good bass fishing place and frequently took home a big mess of fish.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered a couple who were trying to get rid of a lot of stuff from their grandparents’ estate. There were numerous boxes in their garage and they said I could have whatever I wanted. One box was loaded with old letters dated before Idaho became a state. I was interested in the old stamps for my stamp collection. I found a document signed by President Abraham Lincoln, but returned it to them after I made a copy.

I found a tin of a tobacco product, which I still have. 

And the highlight was a handmade wooden chair made during the old couple’s wagon trip west. The chair and articles are at least 150 years old.

I couldn’t understand why the couple would get rid of the stuff, but they said it was going to the dump.

Now, I don’t want you to conclude that all I did in my four years there was have fun. But to keep my sanity I always tried to carve out some personal time. Later, when I became a reporter, it was much easier to do because I could more easily mix business with pleasure.

I never was able to reconnect with Professor Reeves. The college hierarchy decided that he was too liberal for their taste and dismissed him, a major mistake, in my book. Some institution got a very fine person and teacher, and I am certain that he never looked back.

I had probably at least a dozen different jobs while in Nampa and at the college.  

I am certain that working so much took a little away from my grades. When I left, I had three children and only owed the college $90.

The old handmade chair is in my garage. No one sits in  it, and it really belongs in  a museum.

The other day, when going through my stamp collection, I came across the old Idaho Territory letters and the old stamps as a reminder of olden days.