My Confession

There are some things that are difficult to confess.
When I was much younger, as a teenager living in a major city, the idea of going fishing was an exciting idea.
One of my friends named Fred regularly went fishing with his dad and knew of a place where he and his dad often went to fish. We all thought that would be a good place to begin our new adventure. I think there were four or five of us who piled in to an old jalopy and off we went. We all looked to Fred to tell us how to use our homemade fishing poles. Fred had some bread and worms to use as bait. When we finally arrived at our destination we began to prepare to string our fishing poles and set the bait. I watched as the others put the hooks into the little worms and as I watched those little worms squirm I decided I would use compressed small rolls of bread as bait. I don’t remember any of us catching any fish and secretly I was very pleased.
I couldn’t imagine me trying to extract a hook from the mouth of any fish I might catch. I discovered that fishing was not my “thing.”
When I was in the US Military I qualified as a ‘sharpshooter’ after getting 198 out of 200 bulls eyes but I was still only second in my company as someone else got 199 out of 200. I didn’t mind shooting at non life targets but I could never bring myself to shoot at innocent wildlife. However, I believe that if someone threatened my family or other loved ones I would stop them. I think if possible I would shoot to maim instead of killing them. That would be better anyway as they would have to live the rest of their life incapacitated in some way.
I have to confess to strong feelings of discomfort when I have often seen big eighteen wheeler’s along the highways carrying a huge load of felled trees. The trunks stacked and chained together. To me it has always looked like a funeral procession of corpses stacked in one giant pile. Once they were majestic giants of the forest having for many years quietly carried out their duty as sentinels of the forest and serving as a refuge to bird and wildlife never being able to leave their post night or day even during storms of rain, hail or snow. Their responsibility now over and going on to become who knows what……… furniture, pulp for newspapers, a home or perhaps a baseball bat? It seems that even in death there is still a service we can perform and it seems that there is always a price to be paid. Call me a sentimentalist, romantic or even a ‘nut-job’ but I believe that life is better than death and that love is greater than hate. One day we will trade this physical body for a far greater spiritual one and experience a world without death and where love and life reign supreme forever.
That’s the world I can happily relate to.
For “As I See It”
I am, Roy A. Lamont
August, 2014

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One comment on “My Confession

  1. andiesisle says:

    Hi Roy,

    I especially related to the part about killing anything, but particularly hunting animals. I fail to understand how anyone can enjoy killing a beautiful animal, such as a deer for sport. How is that enjoyable??? It is beyond my ability to comprehend or understand. I can’t help but think that there is something wrong with those people.

    Love, hugs, and blessings FF Andie[?]

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