Worry

As an only child, I was close to both parents. As a boy, I did alot of activities with my dad. We were big hunters and fishers. I grew up in the little town of St. Martinville, Louisiana, which is just south of Lafayette. Hunting trips were to our camp in the Atchafalaya River Basin. Fishing was usually at the Hendersen swamp. It was always a great time being outdoors and learning about the area and its wildlife. Since my father had a degree from LSU in Forestry, he was extremely knowledgable about this area and its wildlife. As I hit my teen years, my time with him was replaced by time with friends. This time period in my life I consider my "worrying" years. If I wasn't with him, I just thought of bad things that may happen cause I knew he would be drinking. With that said, he would never drink and handle shotguns. He always stressed the importance of being safe with loaded guns. It would be after the trip that the drinking would begin. On fishing trips, there would be drinking all day. Often I would go with him even though I may not want to be there. If I was there I didn't have to worry about what might happen. As I grew and understood how much he was drinking and what drinking did to oneself, the more I worried. Nights he wouldn't come home after work were the worst. It was hard to escape the unknown.

With all that said, I loved my father deeply. He was a good man with a powerful disease that he couldn't (or didn't try) to control. He was gone before I understood the problem. These days there are no worries, only memories. Alot of good memories. I miss him.

C'est finis.

Ron