When I was 9 years old, my Dad passed away at the age of 32. He was my biggest hero and I followed him everywhere he'd let me go. Thank God for that, since he was called away so very early. By the time he died, I was a definite tomboy - already shooting, squirrel hunting & cleaning the kills (I think that's why he let me go in the first place, ha!), fishing (mostly begging to ride along when he ran trot lines) It's uncanny how much I am like him, according to my Mom. I've been called "Little Marvin" a lot over the years, which has always intrigued me because most of the behaviors or character traits that I share with him were not learned by his example, since he died so early. Although he fished, hunting was what really got him. This picture is from the last turkey hunt he went on and was the 2nd largest bird killed in Carter County, MO that year, which I think was 1974. We camped out on that trip, but he wouldn't let me go on the hunt yet cause I don't think he believed I could stay quiet. I remember walking through the woods with him, trying to step exactly where he did and not make any noise. We crammed a lot of quality into the short time we had together and I'm so thankful for it.
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