Here's to the man who bought me my first gun and taught me how to shoot. He sat through the 6-hour gun safety class with me simply because he wanted to. He sacrificed Saturdays, made and purchased targets and extra bullets, navigated his truck into impossible places, and continually went without earphones so I could become "a good shot." It is hard to convey how important this is to me, but of all the things he gave me, this was the greatest gift possible; the gift of self-defense, a constant sense of responsibility, safety, and the empowerment that comes with knowing how to protect myself.
And, I will certainly miss hearing your unique philosophy on every topic under the sun, accompanied by a comical story at my Mamaw's dining room table. Our family will never be the same.
Everytime I shoot a gun--hopefully ever only for recreation and practice--I will be thinking of you and Saturdays at the river. This isn't the rose-colored, sugar-coated picture some hope to leave behind, but YOU know that is one heck of a legacy.
Love you, Uncle Trent!!!!