Dear Papa Bear,
I can still see you poised on the trap field, Perazzi at the ready, your eager anticipation palpable even with your back turned. Your signature “Hyep!” echoes in my mind… a double bang, a sly grin… “Dead and change!”
That grin so often turned into a mischievous smile, one that is etched into some of my most favorite memories of you, on the field and off. Thank you for teaching me to shoot and to adore it; and in doing so how to practice respect, responsibility, discipline, focus, patience, and perseverance. Thanks to you, I can appreciate that the sound of a fired shell is both thrilling and relaxing in equal measure.
You gave the gift of sport to Luke, too, and he only wishes that Italian boar hunting trip could’ve become a reality. We’re so grateful we can one day share its joys with bébé (in whom I see so much of that devilish grin), and while I so wish she could learn alongside you, I know you’ll still be right by her side.
Lest we forget good old-fashioned fun. You always found a way to make the already fun even more fun, and turn laughter into breathless, belly-aching hysterics. From firearms and fireworks to fireflies and fireplace blazes, your menu of merrymaking existed because you didn’t just appreciate the small things, you found magic in everything.
You are part of the fabric of this brand: your life, staunch sense of tradition, and your patriotism; your humor, appreciation for the finer things, and your style. This project and brand exist despite your absence and because of your presence. I miss you every single day, and while I wish I could share this journey with you in person, I’m at peace knowing you’re walking with me every step of the way.
Love you always, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
Love, me
