Forty years tend to cloud one’s memory but it had to be 1984.
That was the year I was raising three boys, my wife was pregnant with our daughter. I was working second shift and building a new house. But I had no excuse to oversleep during any day of Pennsylvania’s two-week rifle “buck” season. Especially on the morning I was to meet my father, John, in the parking lot of State Game Land 42 in Westmoreland County.
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