Where Dreams Come True…..

In the late 70’s there was a place in Missouri where I could return to my beginnings as an avowed outdoorsman. Once a year a few of my Patrol friends and I would load into a vehicle and make a trip to Bass Pro Shop in Springfield, Mo. It was a candy land for us, a place where even the limited budget of a new trooper could enjoy shopping and spending a precious few dollars. I never lost the feeling of excitement that envelops folks when they enter this Mecca for hunting and fishing enthusiasts and am blessed to have settled down in a home just minutes from their front door. Much has changed with the addition of America’s favorite aquarium, fabulous firearm displays and a plethora of boats, fishing tackle and clothing. Johnny Morris’s retail genius has resulted in a multi-billion dollar empire that supports nature all around the world.

This past week I dropped the Beemer at our local garage for an oil change, hopped in with Sharon who then dropped me off at the doors of Bass Pro. I had with me a bag full of handguns and ammunition for an early morning session on their range where active and retired LEO’s are made welcome. Before heading down to the range, I sat back with a cup of coffee and drifted back to the day when 25.00 would buy a credible rod and an additional ten spot would cover a spool of fresh monofilament and handful of crappie jigs in colors that likely attracted far more fishermen than fish. Bass Pro has morphed into a destination where you are sure to find the tackle you need, or not, as I still own hundreds of dollars worth of terminal tackle that has never been opened.

On this beautiful early fall morning there were few customers roaming the store, save for a gaggle of young Amish boys who were obviously enjoying their visit. The smell of freshly made fudge and sugar coated nuts wafted through the air, and I was positioned so as to watch an aquarium full of crappie doing things crappie do around cover. I silently thanked them for the hundreds of their kin that have taken their last swim in my livewell before being turned into a cornmeal coated, peanut oil fried delicacy fit for royalty.

Life has served up a reversal of fortune, but I am not complaining. Back in the day, I could only lean on one of the aluminum boat packages that was a cornerstone of Morris’s success. My early beginnings didn’t allow for such an extravagant consideration. Today, I have owned the finest Bass Boats that exist, still own a wall full of rods and have enough terminal tackle on hand to open a Bass Pro annex. All of this when age and arthritis has made a casting rod difficult to operate and my reflexes a are just a little behind blasting up Truman lake, dodging timber and cutting channels with ease. My fishing today has dwindled from a few days at a time to a few hours at a time however my enthusiasm has not, nor has my appreciation for nature and particularly nature in Missouri.

My experience this week marks the culmination of a search for just the right micro 9mm pistol for concealed carry. After owning a half dozen of the little guns, I finally found the right combination of conceal-ability and good trigger to suit my purposes. I enjoyed a productive range session before quaffing that all important second cup of coffee and heading home. Thanks Bass Pro for the ride along in life. I hope that every hunter and fisherman (woman) can enjoy a day in the Grand-Daddy of outdoor stores, where dreams come true. When it is my time, I hope Miss Sharon will slip my urn into a cart and wheel me through the aisles of rods and such on the way to my final resting place. It would be a fitting end to a dream fulfilled.

Have a great week!

SR