Your Son’s Son

Your Son’s Son

Zan D. Christensen

"When you teach your son, you teach your son’s son". -The Talmud

Although the origins of the Talmud’s words date back centuries, this bit of advice is as profitable today as it was intended back then. As a parent myself, I appreciate such grains of wisdom, and after years of applying principles like this example, I am now enjoying the fruits of my labors. I am confident that each of the religions mankind embraces have similar teachings concerning how we should raise up our children, I know my Bible does with similar teachings in both the Old and New Testaments. However, this simple line caught my eye years ago and struck the anvil of truth within my heart.

As a father who dearly loves his sons, I pity parents who think only of themselves, constantly occupied with their own interests and career, "24/7", as they say. And, when they do take time off they prefer to spend it on themselves, telling the kids "I’m too tired" or, "It’s good for mommy and daddy’s career, we’ll do something next weekend". Unfortunately, next weekend rarely arrives and sadly, the kids eventually learn not to ask for mom and dad’s time, instead choosing to spend it elsewhere, often with negative or damaging results. Harry Chapins’ song, "Cats In The Cradle", summed up this situation perfectly.

So there’s no misunderstanding on my position concerning gender preference or bias, I applaud parents who respect and teach their daughters and sons equally. I worked with what I was blessed with - two sons. I pray others do the same.

Has my "sacrifice" been worth it? Well, teaching my sons over the past twenty one years has been laborious at times, but most often I enjoyed the process, especially when it dealt with hunting, fishing, camping, survival, mechanic, wood shop and other "guy" skills. Also, teaching them how to clean up the kitchen, mow a lawn, sweep the patio or rake the leaves certainly didn’t leave them chomping at the bit to do it again, but today when I ask them to do such tasks, they do it right - the first time. They take pride in what they do, even when they’d rather not do it. It’s a great sign of maturity to acknowledge you would rather not do something, but do it well anyway. So, the earlier you begin "teaching", the earlier you will develop an interest in and create solid principles within the student.

As I reflect on my life I realize how truly blessed that I am. I grew up in the rural southern tip of Texas, a land rich and fertile for farming and ranching, with an abundance of wildlife. You couldn’t walk in any direction for more than five minutes without running into a place to fish or hunt, and as a boy I fished or hunted at every opportunity. Why? Because of Mom and Dad. Truly, had it not been for them, I wouldn’t have learned some important parenting skills to guide me as I shared my outdoor interests with my two boys. That last statement is what makes the whole equation work in the quote above. They made sure that I, the "son", learned well and thus, passed it along to their "son’s son", their grand children.

Today I’m a spiritual person; there was a time though I wasn’t. However, God kept knocking and I finally opened the door in the fall of 1981. Since then, although my path in life has become progressively narrower, I recognize and appreciate many of His glorious detours along the way. By design, detours lead us off a path to avoid a pending hazard, to safely redirect us around and then back onto the path. Such detours along my path in life include my wonderful wife and our two outstanding boys. Though lately, one detour has diverted my attention and is causing me to reflect on who I am to my parents, my now grown children, and hopefully, their children. As the "you" in the quote, and looking into the future, I can’t wait to take the grand kids fishing and someday join them in their own deer camp. This detour has also prompted me to deeply appreciate my parents, who held the course and never gave up on me, despite my own inclinations.

First, I have to thank God for my mother. Forty-nine years ago she had no idea that she had given birth to an eager fishing partner. Man, did mom love to fish. And, fish we did. I don’t think there’s a canal, resaca or a deep hole in the Rio Grande River that didn’t get a line tossed into it by one of us. The nearby Gulf coast was always an excuse to wet a line. We weren’t picky either. The ship channel, the bay, or the surf each offered something special, for we never knew what kind of fish would pick up our line next. Now, as I lay in bed at night I can drift back in time and smell the warm, pungent, brackish air wafting off the Arroyo Colorado as we fished and crabbed on those balmy summer evenings; clearly hear the sounds of the surf breaking over the sandbars on Boca Chica beach, each wave intensely aglow with the eerily green luminescent algae, luring me out for just one more swim before turning in under the clear star laden sky; see the excitement in her eyes as she stopped the bus driver one day after school, telling him I had to get off NOW, then rushing me to Lynch’s pond to catch one huge channel catfish after another; feeling the grip of the steering wheel during my first cross country driving lesson while on our way to Port Mansfield for an all night sea trout fishing excursion on the lighted pier. And the list goes on. Mom never quit.

Also, I thank God for giving me a father who loved to hunt, shared his time afield with me and saw to it that I learned how to hunt as well. He’s given me so many memories. Like it was yesterday, I can slip back in time, to those hot September afternoons crouched down in the tall Johnson grass waiting for the perfect shot as countless flights of white winged dove passed overhead; walking Jack Ass Flats and attempting to pick out a bird from the covey of quail bursting out from under Pepper’s enthusiastic point; feel the cool, damp night breeze brushing against my face in the back of the old ‘65 Chevy pickup while cruising for rabbits along the endless maze of farm roads; hear the roaring flocks of geese lifting off the coastal marshes at the crack of dawn; spotting the huge ten point buck strolling down the opposite hillside in Graveyard Canyon located in the beautiful Texas Hill Country; jumping at the chance when he asked me if I wanted to go to the Sportsman in Harlingen, the only true hunting store around back then and buying me my first "real" store bought bow. Memory after memory after memory.

Now, after over 20 years of parenthood I truly enjoy the company of my two boys, young men really. Clint, my 19-year-old, is my bow-hunting partner, and I wouldn’t trade his companionship in the autumn woods with a bow in hand with any one. His desire to hunt, patience on stand and dedication to shoot well has made me most proud. He has accomplished more in five seasons that I did in my first fifteen. Although his first three seasons came up naught, his next two produced bucks that others dream about, even for those who tote a rifle. It’s amazing how he keeps his composure with large bucks so close and is able to concentrate on making the shot. You wouldn’t believe that he could, considering his level of excitement each time he came to get me afterwards. That wide-eyed face alone makes my season.

His ability to catch fish is preceded only by his enthusiasm for picking up a rod. Fish simply don’t have a chance when he decides to catch their attention. If one tactic doesn’t pan out, he tenaciously begins implementing a series of strategies until he finds one that the fish agree with. Naturally, he almost always wins the quarter when we fish together, a "contest" I started when he was a small child, whoever caught the first fish got a quarter. He derived great pride in out fishing his dad, much to my approval.

His interest in marine wildlife, especially sharks, and his love to be on the water is leading him into the field of marine biology. Texas A&M Galveston, watch out! When we learn where and when the Great Whites go to breed, he’ll be in the headlines.

Zanito (Zan II), my 21-year-old is the best rifle shot I know. Except for his first two deer, every one he has taken since has been the result of perfect neck shots. He insist it’s the only shot he’ll make, not wanting to damage precious shoulder meat. With his custom built 6 x 47 in hand, a beautiful gift from his grandfather, he can hit a nickel without a doubt out at 100 yards. When he decides he is going to take a deer, his concentration with the shot at hand surely equals that of Howard Hill’s before the arrow left his bow. I truly believe Zanito sees the bullet in flight and hitting its mark as he squeezes the trigger. If deer knew he was in the woods with them and within range, they would die of heart failure. Also, if it were not for Zanito we would have come home with only a dove or two from some of our bird hunts together. Clint and I sometimes just can’t make good use of our shot shells, but Zanito always makes sure we have a big meal at the end of the day.

He too loves to shoot a bow, and throughout his youth he shot it well, but his hectic schedule of college classes combined with the Marine Corps Cadets simply doesn’t allow him the time to shoot now. His journey into the Corps is one that he hopes will lead him into the Special Forces. He wants to become a sniper. Although I am uncomfortable with his choice, I respect and admire it. Also, America and the Constitution could not be better protected, knowing how important those two words are to him when he finally gets to take the oath to defend them both.

Now, in case you’re wondering what this article has to do with hunting, consider who we are and how important it is to share our time and enthusiasm for the great outdoors with our children. In addition, how we should conduct ourselves afield with utmost ethics, for our children are always watching what we do. Whether we realize it or not, we’re constantly teaching, in both word and deed.

So, we have a choice, we can teach or take. I am where I am in life because two people put a lot of effort into their son’s life after I was born. If that’s not the case for you, then you have to decide to create a new and right path in your life. Then, "when you teach your son, you teach your son’s son". Before you know it, you will begin to reap many blessings from your children, and soon thereafter, from your children’s children. Enjoy the journey. -Zano