As I sit here with the cold winds blowing on my back I can't help but think of the upcoming archery season. I also think of a friend I lost last season, Thomas Lear. Tommy was my mentor, teacher, and my life long friend. Tommy moved here to NY from Pennsylvania long before I can remember and became good friends with my grandfather and father. I can not remember one time at the gun club without Tommy being there in my youth. Tommy started this obsession of mine with all things archery, It all started fifteen years ago when I was six, I found an old fiberglass bow and put a piece of twine on it and made some weed arrows and I was off. Tommy noticed this and went to his home and brought back the best thing I ever got, a custom recurve that belonged to his son along with some arrows. He told me I could have it as long as it fitted me and that when I grew out of it he wanted it back so another kid could experience its joy.

My older sister, father, and I shot 3-D archery tournaments with Tommy and my grandfather. My sister and I would often place first and second in the cub division. She was a natural shot, unlike me, but with my father's and Tommy's help I soon became a good shot. Time passed and before you know it I was too big for the little recurve and I was on to a compound bow. That proved to be frustrating, learning to shoot sights and use a release. But again with help from Tommy and my father I soon overcame this problem to and was back out shooting 3-D. Then my sister passed on and I never shot 3-D again.

Tommy was a certified NY state hunter's education instructor. When I was old enough my grandfather brought me to the gun club for the course in hunting and bow hunting. Tommy was teaching it and I thought it would be a breeze and I'd sail through it with no problem but Tommy held me to a higher standard than the others asking me the tough questions and volunteering me for the demonstrations. At the time, I thought he was mad at me or something. Only now do I understand that what he was really doing and that was making me work for something I wanted and there isn't a time that I step in the woods that I don't thank him for it. It wasn't too long until Tommy suggested to my father that I go bow hunting with them in the state park on the Taconic parkway. The group of my older cousins, father, and grandfather, and Tommy's wife and son all made it a fun outing until the chores came and the teasing. That night I wanted to go home. Until Tommy explained the structure of deer camp - how you work your way up the ranks, something that seems to be lost today. In no time me and Tommy were picking on each other and having a fun time.

The next year I got my first grunt call and was swiftly instructed on its uses after I made Tommy miss a nice doe. He showed me things about blood trailing such as not to stand on the blood and look ahead. He taught me how to sit still (not and easy thing for a young teenager). There are many things this man taught me, but most of all he taught me sportsmanship, and I am eternally grateful for that.

As I started a fulltime job back in 99 I missed opening weekend at the park, then another and another. I promised him that I'd be there last year; a promise I couldn't keep and one that haunts me. Because of a new job I missed my last chance to hunt with a man that formed most of the sportsman I am today. Tommy passed on last year getting ready to go hunting in Maine. I regret not hunting with him last year and now I'll never have another chance to. I haven't felt so bad about a person dying since my sister died. I could not bring myself to go to his funeral. His wife said she understood but I still don't.

I can only hope that everyone could have a Tommy of their own. If you do have such a mentor tell him or her how much they mean to you. I was privileged enough to and I feel as if I wasted my time with him towards the end. I find solace though, in the thought of that when I go to the park this year and step in the woods I know that he will be there in the crying wind on the hill, in the chattering chipmunk and the screaming hawk. And he will finally see me have my first deer harvested with a bow.