A Walk In The Woods For Dad

My dad passed away from a terminal illness in 1987. He was a dyed-in-the-wool outdoorsman and had spent most of his life hunting and fishing. Towards the end he was upset that he was confined to his favorite recliner and could no longer enjoy his life outdoors. It was not until years after he had passed that I had an idea that would have really knocked his socks off. If he could not get outdoors, I would bring the outdoors to him. I spent a while thinking of how I could make the greatest impression on him. I finally decided that using his sense of smell would get the job done best. I read that every odor you perceive first passes through the parts of the brain that control memory and emotion before you actually smell it. Certain familiar odors can trigger vivid memories almost instantaneously. Everybody has experienced that. I never had the chance to see whether my idea would have worked for my dad. You might be interested in fiddling with this idea and see if it works for you. Keep in mind that with some illnesses, people cannot handle aromas, even pleasant ones. Using some of the other senses would probably work just as well. Use your imagination!

What I wanted to do was centered around my father’s hunting experiences. I shared many of them with him. Some people may frown at the scenario, but please remember he was from another generation.

This is what I wished I had done. Go out into the woods, and search for familiar things. If I smelled pine needles, I would grab some. Swamp mud. Pine sap. Wet oak leaves. An apple. Cornstalks. So many choices. Then I would do it again at home. Here is a classic, get a piece of old canvas tent. OFF Mosquito repellent. Coffee. Hoppe's #9-gun cleaning solvent. A wee dab of Coleman fuel on a cotton ball. A recently fired shotgun shell. His hunting boots and socks. A piece of fried bacon. I think you get it. The more things you find, the longer you might make the happiness last.

Imagine as my father follows his nose through the day, guided by an imaginative story:

Dad wakes up in his musty old canvas tent. Time to get dressed. First the socks he thought he washed last year. He struggles into the boots that are older than dirt, then tops it all off with the wool coat that has always kept him warm. It is still dark, so he cooks breakfast on his ancient Coleman stove by the hissing lantern light. He smells the hot coffee and sizzling bacon. After all, that is how you start a day right. He sets off along the ridge where the trail is covered with wet oak leaves. He meanders down to where he gets his foot stuck in that stinking swamp mud. It almost pulls his boot off. Later he wanders over and enjoys an apple in the old orchard. While munching, he happens to look down and sees an empty shotgun shell on the ground. He picks it up and smells it because that's just what you do. Its unmistakable peppery smell means it has not been there very long. Into his pocket it goes. It is getting later now. Some bugs are out, so it's time to break out the mosquito stuff. He heads through the cornfield and breaks camp. He drives home at an easy pace. Even though he did not use his firearm, he cleans it. Rule #1 is make sure it's empty. Rule #2 is make sure it's empty. Rule #3, is use Hoppe's #9.

Now that would have been my dad's perfect day.