Charlie was an old-timer who had spent many years in the bush. I say was because 50 years ago, back in the days when I knew him, he seemed to be ancient. I cannot imagine him still living.
Charlie was a crusty old curmudgeon of a character. He could out walk, outtalk, out fight, out cuss and outwork just about everyone he ever met. He could build a fire out of almost nothing, and his skills as a fisherman and hunter were the stuff of legend.
Someone told me that there had once been a Mrs. Charlie, but he never mentioned her to the best of my recollection. It was the sort of thing you did not ask him about. If you wanted tall tales or practical advice about survival in the bush, he would gladly talk about those topics. Anything more personal was off-limits.
Charlie had been a hunter, fisherman, trapper, logger, and prospector at various times. His multiple occupations usually kept him miles from civilization, often on his own. Over the years, there were many occasions where Charlie had to depend on his wits and survival skills to survive.
Charlie had walked away from more than one bush plane crash. He had walked more than 200 miles through the virgin forest after a lightning bolt had left him without a usable canoe.
There were several things Charlie never left home without. Charlie carried a roll of brass snare wire, a sharp pocketknife and a hunting knife in a sheath on his belt. In his pockets were a couple of bandannas, numerous boxes of waterproof matches, a small candle and a compass. He kept some fishing line, flies, and simple hooks in an old breath mint can. Lastly, he carried a battered, old Winchester, lever action .22 with at least a box of ammunition.
There was always plenty of gear besides those things, but Charlie told me that he felt naked in the bush without those constant companions. He believed in being prepared, and it had been the difference between life and death for him more than once.
I feel that Charlie and King David would have gotten along well. David knew what it was like to be out there on his own for long periods. They would have differed in one area. I do not remember Charlie ever once mentioning the Lord unless it was as an expletive.
David travelled with constant companions as well. He had a sling, a staff and undoubtedly a knife of some form.
King David also had an even more powerful companion. David seldom travelled very far without keeping the Lord close at hand. There were times when David drifted, but he always found the Lord close at hand when he looked for Him.
There is none like you among the gods, O Lord,
nor are there any works like yours.
All the nations you have made shall come
and worship before you, O Lord,
and shall glorify your name.
For you are great and do wondrous things;
you alone are God.
Teach me your way, O Lord,
that I may walk in your truth;
unite my heart to fear your name.
I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart,
and I will glorify your name forever.
For great is your love toward me;
you have delivered me from the depths,
from the realm of the dead. Psalm 86:8-13
The best companion you can have on any journey is the Lord. Until next time, make sure He goes with you.
This morning, just for a change, I thought I’d share a short story. It is one I wrote a few years back and needs some work. If you have ever lived or worked in a small town, you might recognize some characters.
I have written a number of the Buckman’s Books stories, one of which got made into a radio play and broadcast in the Caribbean. A lot of work is needed, but there might be a collection of those stories some days.
Enough preamble, here we go.
I stood, shivering outside by the gravesite. While we waited for the pastor, my thoughts drifted back to the last time I had seen my friend alive … I was sitting in my shop enjoying a cup of coffee between customers. I own a used book store in Pine Brook, one of the finest in these parts, Buckman’s Books.
A brand new, bright red pearl coat, Ford F350 Supercrew pickup pulled up outside. The logo, painstakingly detailed on the side of the door panel, read, in large letters,
SOS
Underneath that in smaller letters was,
Slim’s Oilfield Service
Pine Brook
Got a disaster? No one’s faster!
Slim’s was the local oilfield disaster outfit. If you had a blowout, a spill or a fire, Slim was your man. He had a reputation for doing exemplary work at a fair price.
Slim also had an unquenchable hunger for knowledge and devoured incredible quantities of books. In short, he was one of my favourite customers.
Slim looks like his nickname; he isn’t a big man, maybe 5’6 and weighs 145 pounds. He’s in his mid-fifties and is clean shaven with a greying
crew cut.
Slim always wears the same thing, a white tee-shirt, blue jeans, steel-toed work boots and his red jacket, with the boldly embroidered SOS logo. Unless he was suited up for a job, I don’t think I have ever seen him wear anything else.
The young fellow with him, Slim’s physical opposite, Tobias Tyler, called Tee or Big Tee, by most folks around here.
He stood 6’6, weighed about 290, all of it muscle. He was always dressed like Slim but wore a bushy moustache and hair as long as the safety guys would let him get away with.
Big Tee was about thirty and had worked for Slim since graduating from high school. Tee was a minor celebrity in these parts.
He was an all-around good athlete, the rare kind, without an inflated ego. In high school, he played baseball, basketball and football well enough to get offered several full athletic scholarships to college.
Big Tee chose not to go because fighting fires seemed more interesting than more time at school.
Tee was one of those guys you could always count on being there. If something needed moving, you called Big Tee. If you wanted a hunting or fishing partner, Tee was always up for it.
I’d heard stories from reliable sources; Tee helped
a few locals with loans when they were between jobs or in a bind. He never seemed to hold it over anyone’s head, just kept it quiet. Just your basic decent sort of fellow.
At times, Tee played up his jock image. I guess he held on to the idea that it wasn’t cool to be smart, but he was one of the brightest, well-read men in these parts. Big Tee was almost as big a spender in my shop as Slim.
They walked in and poured themselves a coffee my pot. Slim drawled, “How’s it goin’, Buckman?”
“Good, as always. Pull up a chair guys, and tell me what’s up with you these days. Nice new wheels Slim!”
“Should be for what a truck costs these days!” he said as he sat down in one of the two wing-backs at the front of my store.
Big Tee grabbed a wooden chair from beside the counter and eased himself onto it. Big Tee never did anything quickly unless it was on a playing field. He was deceptively fast when he wanted to be.
“Awful coffee, Buckman,” remarked Tee. All my customers complained about the coffee, but I liked it, and they never refused a cup.
“We’ve had a couple of slow days, so I’ve been trying to catch up on my reading,” Slim remarked.
“Wondered what you had got in that was new and
interesting. Got anything exciting since we were here last?”
“I saved a couple of books on steam engineering for you, and a first edition Agatha Christie. I also just got a whole stack of stuff on fishing the other day. Never saw so many fishing books in one place before. A collector over in Devon passed on and his wife would have thrown them out, if her friend hadn’t persuaded her to call me. Go back 200 years almost.” I laughed, “The books that is, not the widow and her friend.”
Slim and Tee both loved to fish, so the mention of the bass books piqued their interest. Wheeling a dolly with three big boxes on it over to them, I encouraged them to check the contents out.
Making short noises of approval and tearing through the boxes, like kids on a Christmas present, or as Slim would put it, like a wildcat on a rabbit. After the first run-through, they began to sort in earnest. Books were piling up on the tables and on the floor.
As he lifted the Bible I always keep on the centre table, Tee asked, “Buckman, would you put this old Bible someplace, so we’ve got some room?”
“No problem.”
“Don’t know why you need a Bible anyway. You know that if there is a God, he surely doesn’t care about us.
“Why do you say that Tee?”
“I figure he built this world and moved on. Too many problems for him to have stuck around.”
“You do think it was God who created this planet then?”
“Sure. How can a man be out on a lake fishing at sunrise or out in a tree stand during hunting season, without knowing someone had to have created all that beauty? Right Slim?”
Slim grunted his agreement and went back to reading the leather-bound classic that had caught his eye.
We talked for a couple of hours about God and about Jesus. I shared with Big Tee that accepting Jesus was the only way to heaven, and we debated the whole issue frontwards and backwards.
“Well, I’m a young guy Buckman. I’ve got lots of time before I have to make those kind of decisions. What you said makes a lot of sense. I will give it some serious thought.”
Slim admonished him, “You’d better! Buckman is right on about Jesus.”
Getting up to serve another customer, I left Slim and Big Tee, continuing their diligent perusal of the fishing books. They bought all three boxes at a price that would pay all my expenses for the next few months. I could have got much more for them at a collectors auction, but I like to give my regulars first crack at the best stuff.
“We’re going up to Chipman Lake, on Tuesday.” Big Tee said as they headed out. “Gonna get some walleye. I hear they are biting like mad. You want come with us?”
“Love to, but I’m open on Tuesdays. Another time perhaps.”
When a week Tuesday rolled around, I regretted my decision not to go with them. I hadn’t seen a single customer by noon. The first couple of hours were great because I caught up on my mail orders and paperwork, but the time dragged.
I was even glad to see Mrs. Tompkins come in. I don’t know how old she was, but she was already known as
“old lady” Tompkins back when I was in high school.
She could talk your ear off and seldom bought much, but she could be counted on to know the latest scoop on everyone in a hundred-mile radius. If it happened, or someone thought it happened, you could count on Mrs. Tompkins to know about it.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Tompkins.”
“Good afternoon to you Mr. Buckman.”
We talked about a few of my regulars, and she looked at some of my latest acquisitions. She asked, “Are you going to the funeral tomorrow morning, or will you be open?”
“Funeral? Who died?” Sometimes, I felt like I spent too much time in the store.
“Big Tee. I was sure you’d know about it. An awful tragedy.”
“When?” I stammered, “What happened? I just saw him a week or so back.
“Four or five days ago. I guess he got caught in a back draft out at one of the well sites. Nobody told you?”
“Not a word.”
“He was over in the ICU at County for three days. Burns over 90% of his body. I guess he regained consciousness a couple of times, but not for long. They say he was in a lot of pain, so it was probably a good thing when he passed on. Slim never left the hospital the whole time.”
Still stunned, I said, “I’ll be at the service. Where and when?”
“It is at he First Evangelical Free Church of Christ cemetery; tomorrow at 9:00 AM. I’ll see you there.” she said as she headed out the door.
A tear formed in my eye as I heard the shovel of dirt hit the coffin. I wondered if Tee made the decision for Jesus during those three days.
I hoped so because the alternative wasn’t very pleasant. I guess sometimes we won’t know until we get to heaven ourselves. I prayed that Tee had made the right choice.
Wiping a tear, Slim nudged me, “Let’s go fishing. Big Tee would like that.”
“I think he would at that.” I agreed. “He’d like that a lot. I’ll get my gear.”
—
None of us knows the hour and day of our passing; that information belongs to God alone. Are you right with God?
If we are not born again in Christ, we face an eternity of suffering for our sin. Don’t delay; open your heart to Jesus today. Want to know more? Drop me a line.
