Lately, I've been putting all my eggs into the basket at Midwestern Gentleman. Writing about men who truly embody the gritty nature of those who endure all four seasons. However, with breaking news that my grandfather has once again rebelled against his retirement home. I'm bringing the heat with a daily Steeno family story.
It begins with the one and only sex kitten. Grandpa Lou.
A few months ago, my mother called my brother and I in a stifled state. She brought up that our grandfather had a recurring story of a hunting trip. He was overheard bragging to his retirement home patrons as if it happened this year, and his story was now becoming the talk of the town. As the tale goes, he up and left on a journey to Colorado, Michigan for a wild backcountry bow hunt. Now, for any of you geographical saavy notetakers, that's neither a city in Michigan, nor a reality since his hunting days have been over for nearly a decade.
Grandpa Lou had either lost his mind or was secretly holding out that he's in prime shape. Using his wheelchair as a luxury chauffeur.
I'm gonna pat him on the back on this one though.
The hunt takes place over the course of four days, where he manages to shoot three small mule deer. He tracked each deer and dragged them to his non-existent Chevrolet truck. And, as any celebratory Yooper would do, he proceeds to polish off his victory with a fish fry dinner at a local diner. In Colorado, Michigan. A place no map or GPS has ever heard of.
Keep in mind he's kept the consistency of each detail every time he tells it.
As he later reveals, all three of those does were then stolen. Shit you not, one by a wolf and two by fellow hunters who happened to be following him. The DNR, according to him, didn't do a damn thing to get him back his well deserved fresh venison. Shameful.
What's both a blessing and curse is that this isn't really a true story. He never left his home to go on a hunt. In fact, he most likely had a recurring dream from his long history of 54 years of shooting a buck. That, too, is not a fact-checked theory. But what I love is he's able to still keep a vivid mind that allows him to experience something he's lived for year after year.
As someone who writes often about the men who embody the Midwest, this only reiterates why this place is so special. Even in his dementia, he's living out his annual hunting days with a mind that allows it. Opening day is engrained in his mind so much that he makes an effort to either dream up a hunting trip, or find a way to rebel against the establishment.
That's special.
So now we reach last week. Grandpa got a new scooter. High powered four wheels of freedom. With that freedom, he has now been caught twice trying to break free. One of which rolling down the highway that runs by his home. Oh, the luxury of having automated wheels. Both times he claimed he was headed to camp. Keep in mind this is a 20 mile trip one way, with a scooter that cruises up to speeds of 3mph. His last break away his battery went dead in the parking lot. Dressed in full hunting fatigue. He was seen trolling a suitcase behind him. God only knows what he packed in it. It was later confirmed 3 adult diapers safely tucked away.
