THE OHIO MASONS
Bro Edward Lewetag, Jr. is a Past Master of' Plum Creek Samuel Hamilton
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 you enjoy it as much
as we did. Editor
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 admiration; 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 forever bond this
fraternity and sustain its presence for 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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