Even though Ed used a throwback bow, the switch had not hampered his success. In fact, he had doubled up on two very solid Nebraska bucks and had time now to do some waterfowling, something Bob would highly approve of as well. In many ways, Bob was a throwback outdoorsman and not just because he used a stickbow. He liked to hunt all types of game with bow and gun, and he enjoyed fishing as well.

AS FOR ME, I believe men miss shared moments with other like souls. Cons-ciously or not, we might long for the days of the high school locker room where boys become young men who work toward common goals to achieve great things for their school and community. The Friday night lights and hardwood glory days are burned into their memories forever.

Similar are the father/son outings in the field that supply the early visual imagery and audible soundtrack that guide our lives. Ed is surely blessed with that background.

I fondly recall the times back in the late ‘80s when Bob and I returned to our trucks after dark. We swapped stories about being busted by some wise old doe or frustrated by the cattle on the property. Sometimes we talked of seeing a great buck slipping through the timber out of range. Occasionally we shared stories of success.

For a few minutes after each hunt, time kind of stood still. Our post-dusk chats, our leaning against the pickups, presented a way to preserve the afterglow of the hunt. Momentarily, they delayed the inevitable return to earthly cares. Those fond memories preserve events I did not value enough at the time.

When first learning of Bob’s illness, I recall wishing time truly would stand still. Of course, even modern medicine could not make that happen, but I take immense satisfaction in seeing Bob’s son Ed carrying on in a manner that would make Bob proud. And I somehow believe they’ve been together every step of the way.

The author has had numerous stories published in Bowhunter. He hails from Fremont, Nebraska.