<p>My first hunting camp was a small space under the stairs leading to the basement of the house I grew up in.</p>
<p>With a wall on one side and my father’s desk on the other, there was just enough room to spread out my camouflage G.I. Joe sleeping bag next to a gun cabinet I built with scraps collected from a garbage pile at a house being built down the road. I pulled the wood home in a wagon.</p>
<p>Today, sitting on the front porch of my cabin, staring down at the creek flowing by, with nothing else in view but a vast expanse of forest canopy, it is hard to believe how far my camps have come. The vision was always there. I’ve dreamed of this since I was a boy.</p>
<p>The other day, during the opening week of turkey season, I was sitting on my porch in a rocking chair holding a cup of coffee enjoying contentment. My mind drifted to an old pellet rifle and how the effort to acquire a single shot, break action biathlon trainer is directly connected to why I have the porch to sit on today.</p>
<p>I’m thankful to my parents for instilling in me a strong work ethic. I bought the pellet rifle on layaway with my own money, making $10 and $20 payments over a couple months of summer.</p>
<p>My favorite store in the world was Fetla’s Trading Post in Valparaiso. A friend of my father once described Fetla’s as the only place you could pick up a gallon of milk and an M-16 rifle in a single stop. Grandpa and I frequented the store as regulars, and when I laid eyes on that pellet rifle I begged for it. Grandpa turned the appeal over to dad, who said I could have it, but I would have to purchase it myself. So I went to work, at 9 or 10 years old.</p>
<p>I was fortunate to grow up in an entrepreneurial family. My great-grandfather opened a floor covering business from his Garya garage in 1948. My grandfather went on to own the shop before selling Lake Shore Floors to his own two sons, my father and uncle. I saved my first paycheck from when I was 5.</p>
<p>I earned my wages picking up scraps of tile and carpet. I still have the check from my grandfather for $1.50. The summer I bought the pellet rifle, I spent many days on job sites with a broom and shovel in my hand, and earned what I needed to make every payment.</p>
<p>During my first senior year of college, my cousin Derek and I bought a 1972 Scotty Sportsman camper for $500. We split it $250 apiece. Her name was Delilah Jones.</p>
<p>That trailer became a roving hunting camp. Friends and family gathered at our camps. Sitting around campfires and telling stories built a deep affection for these sorts of gatherings. I knew then that someday I’d build a dream cabin on a beautiful piece of land with a river running through it.</p>
<p>My dream has come true. Driftwood Acres is a reality. Friends and family are gathering again. The fact that it took 30 years to accomplish this dream, with so many twists and turns, makes every opportunity to sit on my porch and stare at that river more intensely gratifying than I ever imagined.</p>
<p>Dreams come true in many ways, but I wholeheartedly believe that the harder you work to earn what you desire, the more rewarding it is when achieved.</p>
<p>In his landmark work, "A River Runs Through It," Norman Maclean wrote, "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."</p>
<p>See you down the trail …</p>
