stb-1991-11
Bro Edward Lewetag, Jr. is a Past Master of'
Plum Creek Samuel Hamliton Lodge #799 of Plum
Boro, Pennsylvania.
There are many personal stories that could be told
concerning the Masonic Fraternity. Every now and
then we learn of one that truly has a special meaning
of its own. The following story is just such an example.
We chose to use it as the November Short Talk
Bulletin because that is the month in which many
states permit a deer hunting season. This story talks
about a family, an old hunting camp, of love, warmth,
affection and a wonderful Masonic experience.
We at MSA felt that the message reflected in this
story should be shared with Masons everywhere. It
is a wonderful story and we hope vou enjoy it as much
as we did.
Editor
THE OHIO MASONS
by Edward J. Lewetag, Jr., P.M.
The smells and sounds that permeate the
big woods of Pennsylvania in the fall of
each year would convince anyone that there
had to be a highly intelligent being existing
in this world to be able to create such a
beautiful place. The leaves of the trees are
now in full blazing glory, the squirrels are
scampering about gathering food for the
winter months ahead, the birds all seem to
be practicing for a magnificent concert
somewhere, and in the hearts and minds of
many men there exists the thought of the
upcoming deer hunting season.
One begins to hear the plans and designs
being formulated in the late summer
months. Gatherings of family members
becomes a natural event this time of year,
so much so, that one would think a major
holiday was in the making. And to many
families, this yearly event could be considered the highlight of the year. Because
my father is a hunter and a fisherman, not
only the men of our family, but also the
women, experience the excitement of this
yearly get together and play a major role
in its planning.
The weeks prior to the Thanksgiving
Holiday are filled with the traditional
gathering at Dad's house on Sundays. My
brother, his wife, son and daughter are the
hunters in the family these days. Dad and
I simply fish. But the excitement is still the
same. Remembering days long gone, when
the camp Dad had built in the 1940's was
filled with men of the family and Dad's
best friends, I can still recall those wonderful smells of a hunting camp. Bacon and
eggs in the morning, being cooked by men
who were brick and block masons, always
fascinated me as a young man. I could
never understand why food tasted so much
better this one time of the year. What is
considered junk food these days was always
present at the hunting camp. Peanuts of
various sorts, potato chips, jerky, sausages
of various flavors, all were present in vast
profusion. It is no wonder then, that fathers
and sons looked forward to this yearly event
with eager anticipation!
At the age of forty one I feel very fortunate to have a father who loved me
enough to have given me these wonderful
memories to reflect upon. Over the years,
as the sons grew into manhood and began
the task of raising their own families, the
traditional gatherings dwindled to a point
where the old camp sat idle for many years.
When my brother encouraged his wife to
take up the sport of hunting, the old camp
which had provided my Brother and me
with such fond memories of hunting
seasons gone by, experienced a new
awakening.
Now that Dad is approaching the twilight
years of his life, the time that I spend with
him becomes increasingly precious. This
man has very carefully provided me with
the examples by which to live my own life.
To appreciate nature with respect and ad-
miration; to treat your fellow man as you
would want to be treated.
How wonderful it is for us to be able to
look into each others eyes and without
saying a word experience a mutual feeling
of love. Is it not understandable how I looked forward to spending a few days with this
man, at the old camp, this particular hunting season?
We arrived at camp the day before the
rest of the family, so it became our chore
to open up and prepare for their arrival. As
I put the bass boat away, Dad started the
fire. Hunting camps always provide you
with that smell which exists nowhere else.
Wood burning in the old potbelly stove
always seems to take forever to bring
warmth to the old place. Being satisfied the
fire would last until we returned from
obtaining water we loaded the old Blazer
with empty water cans and headed down
to the spring near Tionesta Creek.
The big woods are so magnificent this
time of year that we couldn't help but experience the awe of such a beautiful ride.
Having arrived at the spring we just stood
and listened. The sounds emanating from
Tionesta Creek to our right, the trickle of
pure mountain spring water to our left, the
birds singing high above us, and the smell
of hemlock all around provided Dad and
me with the experience of what heaven
must be like.
Having filled the containers with water,
we loaded the old Blazer and headed down
the road towards our camp. This area of
Forest County is void of camps and quite
a few miles from help of any kind.
Although one of the most pristine places
we know of, it is also one of the most
desolate. And if trouble should happen, it
would definitely provide one with an
unpleasant experience!
As we drove along enjoying the scenery,
an approaching vehicle made it necessary
for me to use a little extra power to move
the old Blazer off the road, the road being
quite narrow. Realizing the engine had stalled, I tried to restart it with absolutely no
response. Not becoming excited at this
point, I coasted as far off the road as possible and parked.
Dad and I fiddled around with the
various parts of the engine which we
thought had malfunctioned, but to no
avail. Now was the time for some very
serious contemplation. There were a few
cars which had passed us but never stopped to inquire as to our dilemma. At this
point we looked at each other, father to son
and son to father, and without uttering a
word, decided that since I was the youngest
of the two, the ten mile walk to the nearest
place which could provide help, was my
responsibility.
As I was about to leave my father with
the old Blazer, three individuals from Ohio
pulled their vehicle off the road in front of
us and asked if they could be of any
assistance. Dad and I could have hugged
them for their thoughtfulness. As one of
the sons of the older gentleman was looking at the engine, we all introduced ourselves and began a conversation which Dad
and I will remember for many years to
come. As it turned out, these men were a
father and two sons who also spent time
with each other as our family did.
Having decided that the old Blazer
needed repairs beyond our present
capabilities our new friends offered to tow
us to one of their neighbors farms. Having
arrived at the farm after dark and too late
to accomplish anything with regard to the
vehicle in tow, these three men offered their
assistance in driving us back to our camp.
It was at this time that I thought I recognized a ring on one of their fingers as being
Masonic. My heart began to race, for my
father and I were also Masons and I found
myself wondering what a wonderful experience this would be if my observation was
correct. I kept this observation to myself
long after we arrived at camp.
Having offered our new friends a bit of
refreshment, we began a conversation
which revealed to Dad and me that these
three men had been hunting the same area
of Forest County as we had for approximately the same number of years. They
were even familiar with the same local
residents. Was this coincidence or perhaps
an event which the good Lord provided for
our mutual benefit?
Not being able to contain my excitement
about the ring any longer, I finally asked
a question which all Masons ask of each
other to determine Masonic membership.
Lo and behold, my excitement was well
founded! Again Dad and I looked into each
others eyes and experienced that knowledge
obtained without uttering a word and a
feeling of love permeated the old camp.
How wonderful this experience was! Our
friends are Ohio Masons; Dad and I are
Pennsylvania Masons!
Now as I reflect back upon the events of
last November, I become increasingly proud
of being a member of our beloved fraternity. Is it no wonder that we have existed
for so many years?
No matter what jurisdiction, state, or
country each of us calls home, the love,
respect, and admiration which exists
between Masons will torever bond this
fraternity and sustain its presence tor all
time.
The events of the 1990 hunting season
went beyond the actual planned purpose
and once again the old hunting camp on
German Hill has provided me with
memories which I will be able to reflect
upon when I enter the twilight years of my
own life.
A MILE WITH ME
O who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,--
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journey's end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again!
Henry Van Dyke
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