Joy Ride

The U.S. Open was a few miles from my place. I did not go as I am not much of a golf fan. However, if I had attended I wish I was partying with these fellows!
Reminds me of the time the boys and I commandeered a golf cart from Gasoline Alley at the Indy 500...although we did not crash and utilized the ill-gotten vehicle all weekend.

Nash Buckingham

An outdoor writer and pioneer conservationist, “Mr. Buck” wrote nine books and hundreds of magazine articles. His home-spun style of storytelling bestowed legions of American hunters with humanity, humor and deep respect for animals during his career that spanned most of the 20th century until his passing in 1971 at 91 years old.




Mr. Buckingham’s book “De Shootinest Gent’man” published in 1934 by Derrydale Press featured a collection of stories that bestowed waterfowling with an entertaining Southern voice that resonated with American sportsmen. The title story, written in 1916, helped establish his reputation as an iconic outdoor writer.



If ever there lived a natural-born duck hunter, Mr. Buckingham easily claimed that distinction. His father, Memphis banker Miles Sherman Buckingham, achieved prominence as a founding member of the Beaver Dam Club in Tunica, Mississippi. Chartered in 1883, the defunct hunt club had been recognized as one of the oldest in North America. By the late 1800s, the young boy hunted with Southerners who lingered in his heart as fanciful influences.



During the 1900s, Mr. Buckingham rode the train two hours from his hometown of Memphis to Evansville — the jumping off point for reaching Beaver Dam Lake. His published tales of duck hunting immortalized the flyway honey hole and its roust-about cast of locals.



By some accounts, Mr. Buckingham’s writing may have been surpassed by his marksmanship. He reveled in mastering extremely high shots with the 10-pound, 12-gauge Super Fox nicknamed Bo Whoop after its hollow eruptions.



Courtesy of Shotgunlife.com

Bourbon and Coke

This is one way to add some wild turkey to your Coca-Cola.

Belated Father 's Day Gift

"Thank you for raising me well, we're on the camping trip and i'm the only one who knows how to do shit."


   This was a text message I received from my son yesterday. He is a CIT at a Summer camp down on the Chesapeake this Summer. The camp takes the CITs on a backpacking trip prior to the start of the Season for bonding and team building.This missive from my son contains the finest words I have ever read in my life.

Friday Night Fights

Sands Casino, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Philly fighter Bryant Jenning rips a vicious right upper cut into the face of his Russian opponent. Shortly after this punch..the Russian was unable to continue.
It was a great night of fights. Sadly, Ron Cruz, a Bethlehem native, lost in front of his home town crowd. Cruz could not get inside the nasty jabs of Ghanan fighter Ray Nahr. He lost every round and the 10 round bout gave Cruz his 2nd pro loss.
My fighter is slated to return to the ring 8/24 at Bally's casino in Atlantic Cuty.

2 Outa 3

Kid number 2 graduated last night. She is off to college in August and I could not be more proud. She was awarded a Presidential Scholarship at UVM and wants to be a large animal Vet. UVM is the perfect place to begin that journey. My son has 2 more years of high school. Everyone says it goes by fast...and it does.

U.S. Open

The Main Line is the center of the Golf universe right now. The rain has been an issue. Parking and logistics are fairly Byzantine in scope and complication. Ticket prices are absurd. Fortunately for this sportsman...golf holds very little interest. So, other than some traffic issues and maybe some TV time checking out the Sunday final rounds, there is negligible impact.

Aim Is True

Exhale half of the breath. Squeeze don't jerk. Keep your cheek on the comb of the stock.

Summer Reading

Alan  Haft’s book chronicles his father's improbable journey from Nazi concentration camps in World War II to a match with unbeaten future heavyweight champion Rocky Marciano in 1949. The book tells the tale  of Harry Haft, who was forced to fight other prisoners in bare-knuckle bouts to entertain German SS officers (not unlike Salamo Arouch upon whom the gripping film "Triumph of the Spirit" was based.) Haft's fight with Marciano was the last of his professional career, which ended at 13-8 with 8 KO's.

There are great stories in the annals of boxing. This is one of them.

Title Fight

I am embarrassed to admit that I have paid attention to and been amused by the recent allegations vibrating around the Net concerning the supposed identity of the person who was responsible for WASP101. The comments posted at Ivystyle (a blog I rarely read because I am more interested in shotguns and bird dogs than in 3/2 roll or the habedashery habits of some 1958 Yale dandy) have been legion and entertaining. I am reminded of the German Sergeant in "All Quiet On the Western Front" who suggested that the leaders of nations should be put in the boxing ring to decide the outcome of conflicts. Perhaps Christian and Richard should have laced up some 12 ounce gloves and gotten into the squared circle to settle things like gentlemen.
The  collateral damage from this WASP101/Ivy dust-up, which I find truly lamentable, is that YWP of Boxing the Compass has elected to close up shop. I truly enjoyed his prose and photos. Indeed, when the author was in Philadelphia we met for drinks and I found him to be a likeable and gracious gentlemen of high intelligence, wit and composure. I looked forward to reading his posts and it seems that opportunity is no more. Bummer.

Country Show and Casino

   Saturday dawned hot and humid. My daughter, devoted equestrian, was registered for one of many small country horse shows that take place during the Summer around here. Sunscreen was applied and water iced up for the long wait for my daughter's events. It was wonderful spending the afternoon with her and her mount. She heads off to college in late August....majoring in animal Sciences and hoping to be a large animal vet. Thus, I valued the time to hang around the horses and the trailers and the little ring with the kid. These small local shows stand in stark contrast to the Grand Prix at Devon which we all attended Thursday evening...but to the riders in the ring the competition is no less fierce.

After a sweltering day watching my daughter jump in the hot dusty ring, it was off to Bally's in Atlantic City for an evening of prize fights.Beers and jeers and KO's made for a rousing ring-side Saturday night. A few throws of the dice and a few hands of Blackjack completed the evening. Now it is Monday and the door of the Courthouse awaits.