Friday, November 15, 2019
The Star Slug
My dear nearly lifelong friend Jim passed away unexpectedly last weekend. He died in his tree stand doing what he loved with his son Tom. The news of his passing devastated me as I’m sure it did his family and friends. Jim was more than a friend, he was a rock. You could count on him to be genuine, consistent and unchanging; He was one of those rare people that couldn’t help but to do the right thing. He was not loud or persuasive. He just told it like was and did what he thought was right. Jim always saw the humor in things and valued his relationships with people above all else.
Winchester star slugs were manufactured in the same era that Jim was. They were a paper shelled shotgun slug that had a little star cast into the end of the projectile. They were an old time deer hunter’s bullet of choice back in simpler times. Those were the days of plaid hunting jackets and sorrel boots and filson style hats that folded down over your ears. It was when families gathered for deer season to provide both entertainment and good food for the table. The hunt was more than this though. It was about the relationships with the friends and family that you shared the day with. It was about passing those traditions down to the kids that couldn’t wait to be in the woods with “the guys”. It was about the retelling of stories of past years hunts, many of which were full of mishaps and humor as well as success. The hunt taught responsibility, the gravity of carrying around a deadly weapon and the decision to take somethings life. In those days killing a deer was done with respect. Deer were not objects simply to be measured; they were living creatures to be carefully stewarded so as to insure their existence for next year. Deer were measured by the experience of their taking. A good hunt was the sum total of honest, responsible and valuable things and this made it one of the best forms of fun.
My friend Jim is metaphorically the star slug. Incidentally, he collected them. His value system was best represented by his style of hunting. Jim loved to do nothing better than spend the day in the woods with his sons and friends and then come home to tell his wife Lisa all about it. He surrounded himself with people who shared this indelible system of values. Jim loved kids. He was as good to mine as we was to his own. Few things were more pleasing to him than to watch the excitement on a youngster’s face when they got a deer or caught a fish. I share this system on values with him and it’s why Jim and I will always be friends. His passing will not end the immortality of his friendship. My memories and those of all who knew him will be passed on and preserved in the stories that we will tell. His sons will live their lives the way Jim and Lisa taught them and their children will be like them. Be like Jim. At Jim’s calling hours, I gave his son Tom a star slug that I found in my basement. It’s old but well intact just as Jim’s essence and memory will always be. I will miss him but more importantly I feel lucky to have shared a friendship with him and his family. Jim Baileys is the star slug.