In that moment, I realized there was nothing more important than spending time with the blessing God gave me, my son!
It was a July afternoon and I had just arrived home after a hard week’s work. I was met by my eight-year-old son, his face lit up with excitement. “Dad, can we go to the creek and set up camp?” he asked eagerly. I told him, “If we would had gotten the bank poles ready, we could, but that’ll take too long today.” I said this fully knowing that he had painstakingly prepared the bank poles in anticipation of catching that big catfish. “Dad, I have them ready just like you showed me. Lines, hooks, and a cork to hold the hooks until we set them,” he said, practically vibrating with excitement. Sure enough, everything was ready. The cooler filled with food, water jugs full, and the night lines ready to set. It didn’t take us long to load up the pickup. We put the boat in the back and we were on our way with Sarg, my son’s German Shepherd. As we set up camp, Ryan asked, “Do you have to close the bar tonight?” At the time, I co-owned a club with two other men. It held the only two o’clock liquor license in Lincoln since we were 150 feet outside the county line. Smiling, I told him, “Nope, the other owners assured me they would close.” There was a visible look of joy on my son’s face. We had just finished setting the night lines and were sitting around the fire. Ryan sipped hot chocolate while I was drinking campfire coffee. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this peaceful moment, sharing the night’s majestic ambiance with my son. Then the phone rang. It was midnight. The lady who managed the bar said the other owners didn’t show. She needed help. By midnight, when other bars in Lincoln were closing, ours was packed elbow to elbow with serious partygoers. An owner had to be present. Ryan’s face dropped. He knew what that call meant. He looked up and pleaded, “Dad, can I stay? Sarg’s here. He’ll protect me.” I hesitated but eventually gave in after Ryan promised to stay in the tent. I told him I’d be back as soon as possible. I didn’t get the bar closed until 3:15 a.m. As I went through the gate, I stopped at the bluff overlooking our site. It was one of those special nights, a magnificent full moon, stars shining like diamonds. I could see the glowing coals of our fire and cattle grazing between me and the tent. In that moment, I realized there was nothing more important than spending time with the blessing God gave me, my son! God gave me an understanding that night, an understanding of what is really important. I understood what truly matters. Within two months, I sold my share of the bar. I’ve never regretted my decision, especially since that time was spent with my son. That eight-year-old boy is now 48, with two children of his own. For me, those memories we made together are worth more than gold. They’re what get me through my days here at Western Illinois Correctional Center.
