Said goodbye to a man today that was a father figure, friend, employer, and confidant today.
He was blessed that he made seven trips to Africa, hunted Dall sheep and musk ox, as well as mountain lions. Also hunted grizzly bears and moose.
He was a big influence on me. I met him when I was in high school when I crashed at his place as I was friends with his son. He gave me one of the three proudest moments of my life.
I worked for him one summer building fence on the ranch. The longest anyone lasted with him was three days. I told him I’d give him thirty days and I did. Growing up I always called him, Sir or Mr. (Insert last name here).
One day as we were loading the truck he said, You don’t have to call me, Sir. You’ve earned my respect. Call me Jimmy.” He admitted to people that he tried to get me to quit but I wouldn’t. I told him I’d give him thirty days and I did. Then I went to work for him at his plumbing company. That’s when he said that to me. You’d have thought I won the lottery when he said that.
He was hard but he wouldn’t push you any harder than he’d push himself. Those kind of bosses are few and far between. When my dad died, I was twenty. He put his arm around me and I bawled like a baby. I learned a lot from him and fired my first handgun and centerfire rifle under his tutelage. He helped inspire my desire to rodeo and when I showed up at the plumbing office with three checks from a successful weekend run he was as proud as I was. He was the only one that didn’t try to talk me out of rodeoing.
He told me before he died that when I shattered my face, bull riding accident, he was afraid that he was to blame because he’d inspired me to ride bulls. I told him, “No.” I’d been on a couple bulls in high school but I wasn’t ready then and I needed to grow a little before I started riding. He wasn’t to blame and I knew the risk.
Jimmy, you had a good run and I know you and C. J. McElroy are in a Rhodesian hunting lodge hunting Cape Buffalo. I’ll see you someday and we will go hunting Dagga Boys. Until then I’ll miss you my friend.
Vince
He was blessed that he made seven trips to Africa, hunted Dall sheep and musk ox, as well as mountain lions. Also hunted grizzly bears and moose.
He was a big influence on me. I met him when I was in high school when I crashed at his place as I was friends with his son. He gave me one of the three proudest moments of my life.
I worked for him one summer building fence on the ranch. The longest anyone lasted with him was three days. I told him I’d give him thirty days and I did. Growing up I always called him, Sir or Mr. (Insert last name here).
One day as we were loading the truck he said, You don’t have to call me, Sir. You’ve earned my respect. Call me Jimmy.” He admitted to people that he tried to get me to quit but I wouldn’t. I told him I’d give him thirty days and I did. Then I went to work for him at his plumbing company. That’s when he said that to me. You’d have thought I won the lottery when he said that.
He was hard but he wouldn’t push you any harder than he’d push himself. Those kind of bosses are few and far between. When my dad died, I was twenty. He put his arm around me and I bawled like a baby. I learned a lot from him and fired my first handgun and centerfire rifle under his tutelage. He helped inspire my desire to rodeo and when I showed up at the plumbing office with three checks from a successful weekend run he was as proud as I was. He was the only one that didn’t try to talk me out of rodeoing.
He told me before he died that when I shattered my face, bull riding accident, he was afraid that he was to blame because he’d inspired me to ride bulls. I told him, “No.” I’d been on a couple bulls in high school but I wasn’t ready then and I needed to grow a little before I started riding. He wasn’t to blame and I knew the risk.
Jimmy, you had a good run and I know you and C. J. McElroy are in a Rhodesian hunting lodge hunting Cape Buffalo. I’ll see you someday and we will go hunting Dagga Boys. Until then I’ll miss you my friend.
Vince
