Nov. 29, 2006

My father is quite the sportsman. Any time he had a few days off, he'd pack his bags and bring the whole family up to our cottage in northern Minnesota. Like our dad, my brother and I grew to love the woods and the small adventures we would have within the parameters of our father's rules. I don't really remember the rules, mostly because he never really gave us any. I do remember the one time he did give us a rule to follow. I remember because by disobeying this one rule it almost cost me my life. Here's how the story goes.

By Jarod Palmer

Our small excuse for a boat was fully loaded with decoys and other various hunting supplies. The sky was gloomy overcast with a cold wind probably from the north. I was very excited for this hunting expedition because I had just received a brand new pair of hunting boots. They were green and they came up to my knees. We beached on an island somewhere on the southwest side. The good duck hunting was on the southeast side where the island blocked the wind, making a calm spot for the ducks to land. I remember hopping off the boat and splashing into the water with such excitement. I was amused by my special ability to stand in the water and remain dry. I was filled with a great desire to test the durability as well as usefulness of my new boots. My dad gave us his usual speech about being careful, not wandering too far, and using our heads. He also added something new to his speech, he told us to stay away from the west side of the island because it was really muddy. Those last words he said blared like trumpets in my ears. "Really muddy!" I couldn't wait to disobey my father this time.

My older brother also received a brand new pair of waterproof hunting boots, so he too was excited to test them out. As we ventured further and further from my father's hunting spot, we came closer and closer to the doomed west side of Pelican Island. I was like a crazy kid jumping from mud puddle to mud puddle hoping for each one to be deeper than the last. My brother was right behind me doing the same.

Finally, I splashed into a puddle that went right up to the edge of my waterproof boots. I remember my brother saying from somewhere behind me, "Okay, that's enough, lets go back now." I pretended not to hear him and bunny hopped to the next puddle. I remember him yelling something at me but I didn't care. I was reckless and out of control. So I hopped one more time when ... SPLASH!!! I landed in a puddle that was nearly as deep as I was. With just my head above the mud I began to cry. I could see the boat. It seemed just on the other side of the puddle. I specifically remember thinking that if I could get to the boat I'd be safe. I tried to swim across the puddle, but something was stopping me. I looked back to see my brother waste deep in the puddle with me. He was pulling my arm with all his might. I don't know how, but he managed to pull me out of the puddle. We both sat there in amazed at what had happened.

Jarod Palmer

We didn't even get a chance to tell our father about our experience. He saw us, knew that we had disobeyed his rule, proceeded to break off a good thick branch from one of the nearby trees, then ordered us to bend over and touch our toes. He spanked both of us. I have always felt bad that my brother was also punished for my poor judgement. He did what a big brother should do, he was there for me when I needed him.

My dad always punished both of us when one of us got into trouble. In doing this, he forced us to watch out for each other. This became a common theme in my life. My brother wasn't always the best, he made his share of mistakes, but I never doubted that he would be there for me when I needed him most. I can't begin to count the number of times he helped me out when I was in a tough situation. He's my best friend. We still enjoy going hunting when we get the chance. He just recently told me of a new spot he'd like to try out over Christmas break. This time however, we'll steer clear of the mud puddles.