the stuff we're made of - part 2

my father was a complex man... a 1st generation american born of italian immigrants... a veteran of the navy and a tirelessly hard working family man... he loved having fun too, and we always did so much outdoors... we settled in a home in the country with plenty of room for gardens and orchards... a good forest in the back and a huge field for grazing horses in the front...

one hot summer evening, we'd all been working in the yard, and a large white tail doe wandered quietly into the field and dad was determined to have venison... i remember he whispered so loudly and urgently to my mother... "shhhhh... get the clothesline mommy (italian men often called their wives mommy... i think it was a madonna thing (laffin)... get the clothesline quick"...

he fashioned a quick lasso and took off running... vaulting the fence athletically, swing the rope over his head... he spookedg the deer immediately, of course, and it loped indifferently off into the cornfield next to the pasture... dad wouldn't give up, oh no... he chased the thing and you could hear him swearing and puffing and puffing swearing for miles it seemed...

sweating like mad and covered with scratches from the briers he returned to the yard fifteen minutes later, rope in hand, all he could get out as my mother, my sister and i stood there laughing was... "my god mommy could that thing run"

blessed am i... i am my father's son and more...