Dad: Fathers Day, this year, has me feeling especially bereft because you won't be here, for the first time in my life. And, it will have only been ten days since you left. I remember, in 1958, how much fun we had living at 2052 RimRock Rd. in Billings, Montana.....the "Rims" standing out so majestically prominent due east of the house. They were always boldly beckoning: "Climb Me","Climb Me"!! All three of us kids could hardly refrain from exploring every crevice, nook, and cranny whenever possible. Each one of us spent so many hours and had so much excitement in exploring and finding as many ways to scale this natural fortress as we possibly could imagine while fulfilling idle hours. It was during this time of my life that you presented me with a 1911 Remington 22-caliber rifle. I was twelve, at the time, and so ripe for the best gift ever that a young man, of my age, could possibly imagine. Living on the fringe of town provided close-by opportunity for numerous adventurous pursuits. You took me out "plinking" and insured that I attended a local NRA course right off. Then you initiated me to rabbit hunting. When it came to shooting, you expected me to purchase my own ammo, thus encouraging me to learn to shoot accurately and responsibly. This need to pay for ammo also stimulated in me the necessity to learn how to make my own money. You also taught me how to make wooden traps, made from used orange crates, to catch various small critters. I was so proud of my 22. It had originally belonged to my Grandpa Slater whom, at one time, had owned several guns. The story goes that there was a housefire that destroyed everything but this 22. It had survived the fire because Grampa frequently used it for varmit control, thus, leaving it in the shed. This was the greatest gift I had ever received! The small pump-action 22 has served me well, over the years, and remains my most favorite possession. A year later, you presented me, on Christmas, with a shiny new single-shot 20-gauge shotgun (J. C. Higgins). Wow!! Nothing teaches a kid how to shoot faster than by learning on a weapon that shoots only one shot at a time before having to reload. At this time, we were living 18 miles east of Edgar, Montana (on Pryor Star Route between Edgar and Pryor). Our closest neighbor lived about five miles away, making it safe to shoot rabbits right out of my upstairs bedroom window if I wanted to. This was a boy's paradise! You took me pheasant hunting as soon as I got my license. Ivy, my Beagle dog, went with us, and we flushed a pheasant straightaway. It climbed into the sky right off letting out a loud harsh "koark-KOK" cry. Instinctively, I pointshot so quick, surprising you and even myself. All that we found of that poor critter was a bunch of feathers....with many still falling from the sky! After that little episode you explained to me a better technique. But my first pheasant was pretty exciting anyway. The next greatest material gift from you was to come a few years later. A 1950 Chevy BelAir coupe. WOW!! You sure knew what types of things would best please someone. This was 1962 and the little Chevy was already twelve years old but who cared. It was a dream come true. I find it hard to express how much I felt liberated, again, by having my own car. We were now living in Phoenix, Arizona, having left magnificent Montana, and I was feeling pretty darn stifled. I used to go anywhere time would allow me on my bicycle; but now I could go places much faster, carry lots of things, and take along a buddy whenever! Across town to school, my after-school job at A. J. Bayless Markets, to Drive-In Hamburger joints and Drive-movies too--- (usually with a gal)---simply everywhere! Of course, you made sure it was understood that costs for insurance and gasoline were up to me. More incentive in learning to pay my own way in life. But...........the best gift of all, from you Dad, was your allowances giving me freedom to do mostly as I desired, within reason-of course. You supported my independence my entire life and was always around to help me come up with money-making ideas and pursuits to insure my ability to enjoy my spare time activities. You, Dad, were an entrepreneur of the most imaginative sort and never failed in stimulating others in ways that would help them help themselves. . . Thanks to you Dad, your children have been coached in many venues of self-reliance. Hopefully, we are successful with our own broods as well. Dad, pass on special Fathers Day blessings from me to Grandpa Slater, Grandpa Fairclough, and Grandpa Hicks. And, to you, Dad, Thanks for being my father. Lovingly, Jimmy.