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biglakejake

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About biglakejake

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    Premier Member
  • Birthday 07/04/1959

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    Male
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    White Mountains

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  1. biglakejake

    Where is I?

    NOT MY VIDEO everything about this is nice-i will bet some here have been in those hot springs!
  2. biglakejake

    Coues deer with a lever action?

    i think i have read that up until pearl harbor the savage m99 in various calibers was the choice 'for little arizona fantails' lee
  3. biglakejake

    Coues deer with a lever action?

    Alan Ellsworth used to tell me about his fathers' Coues hunts on the san carlos with $10 otc tags and a m94 30/30. the first deer i helped gut was a fellow from tucson with a marlin lever in .22/250 in 1973 or '74. lee
  4. biglakejake

    WANTED to purchase .22 revolver combo

    cal ranch also-thanks. lee
  5. looking for a combo .22/.22WMR(mag) single action revolver. less than 6" bbl. a few items for trade but i have cash. lee 928-537-0599
  6. biglakejake

    Mike Pock

    after we was just young-uns i would go fishing to san carlos, roosevelt and picacho with Mike's dad Jay. usually the conversation in the boat while soaking huge 2lb waterdogs always turned to Mike. now i could be mistaken some but Jay and I would think more on Michael settin' decoys on a half-froze Ashurst january at 2am than sumtin like dancing on streets of gold in the hereafter. but o'course prob the same thing for Mike...... lee
  7. biglakejake

    The Soldier's Christmas Poem

    Submitted By: Debstamps1 The poem was recorded by Father Ted Berndt of Wisconsin as a tribute. Berndt is also a former Marine and World War II Veteran and is a recipient of the Purple Heart. The original poem was actually written by a former Marine Corporal James M. Schmidt. Schmidt was stationed in Washington, D.C. in 1987 when he wrote the poem originally titled "Merry Christmas, My Friend." Transcription of "A Soldier's Silent Night": ‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone, In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney, with presents to give and to see just who in this dwelling did live. As I looked all around, a strange sight to see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stocking on the mantle, just boots filled with sand. On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. Medals and badges, awards of every kind, a sobering thought came alive in my mind. This house was different, it was dark, it was dreary. I had found the home of a soldier, I could see that most clearly. The soldier lay sleeping silent, alone. Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home. His face was so gentle, room in such disorder, Not at all how I pictured a U.S. soldier. Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read? Curled up on a poncho, a floor for a bed? Then I realized the other families that I saw this night Out there lies the soldiers who are willing to fight. In the morning around the world, children would play Grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day But they all enjoyed freedom, each month through the year, because of soldiers like the one lying here. I couldn’t help but wonder how many lay alone, on a cold Christmas Eve, in lands far from home. The very thought brought a tear to my eye. and I dropped to my knees and I started to cry. The soldier awakened, I heard his rough voice, “Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more. My life is my God, my country, my Corps.” The soldier rolled over, and drifted to sleep, I couldn’t control it, and I continued to weep. I kept watch for hours, so silent and still. as both of us shivered from the cold night’s chill. I didn’t want to leave him on that cold, dark night. This guardian of honor, so willing to fight. Then the soldier rolled over with a voice soft and pure. He whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.” One look at my watch and I knew he was right, Merry Christmas my friend, May God bless you this night. The Original Poem, as printed in the December 1991 edition of "Leatherneck": 'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone, In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney, with presents to give and to see just who in this home did live. As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand. On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land. With medals and badges, awards of all kind, a sobering thought soon came to my mind. For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen. This was the home of a U.S. Marine. I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more, so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door. And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone, Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home. He seemed so gentle, his face so serene, Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine. Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read? Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed? His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan. I soon understood, this was more than a man. For I realized the families that I saw that night, owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight. Soon around the Nation, the children would play, And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day. They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year, because of Marines like this one lying here. I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home. Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye. I dropped to my knees and I started to cry. He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice, “Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more. My life is my God, my country, my Corps.” With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep, I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep. I watched him for hours, so silent and still. I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill. So I took off my jacket, the one made of red, and covered this Marine from his toes to his head. Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold, with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold. And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride, and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside. I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight. But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure, said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.” One look at my watch and I knew he was right, Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight. Author: Marine Corporal James M. Schmidt
  8. biglakejake

    Prayers needed

    i will not live to be a hundred or even close but the toll taken by tonto creek and young road is so awful even the saguaros' cry. so very sad. lee
  9. biglakejake

    Stuck

    what would Joe Pickett do? looks like one of his stucks................. lee
  10. biglakejake

    Stuck

    the only time i had to get jerked out was sumptin. the hero has been reported as a lurker here on CWT-thank you again Sir. got my '73 green Waggoneer frame stuck below high water mark on the south side of San Carlos circa 1996. sumthin you may never see in a lifetime-four times-four as in 4-the fellow from safford hit the end of the chain and went airborne-a dodge diesel cummins 4x4 trying to fly! methinks he was having some fun but out on 4th takeoff attempt. just a little something to remember life by, wouldn't take money-thanks again! Good Luck! lee
  11. biglakejake

    Favorite Miles Traveled

    black canyon lake to guadalupe island. too bad we can't pass down luck like that. lee
  12. biglakejake

    Favorite Miles Traveled

    Favorite Miles Traveled 'going fishing-git yer gear kid' excitement and butterflies and all wound up climbing in the truckbed ready for the chilly trip daydreams of lunkers, the best worms ever or a new honey hole getting rigged up by flashlight in the dark, rough ride down the canyon wide awake, ready for adventure, can't wait to see the dawn mist on the water repacking knapsack many times-hooks and viennas', sodas and a poncho nothing more exciting at 10 years old than first light on a trout lake "don't go in the water", "don't talk to hippies", "come back for lunch" forever remembered in the dawn. off at a trot-where are the big ones today? Look-a rise! a big one! being "mature"-casting a colorful trout lure for a fruitless hour but i know how success will come-the liveliest grasshopper or the biggest worm in the folgers can back with my full stringer-cold fried chicken and sweet iced tea waiting on the tailgate squatting in the mud cleaning everyones fish-telling others to get up early if they want to get limits why do people want to take pictures of someone elses trout?-the lake is full of them! riding home in the back, smelling of fish, finishing off the last fried chicken wing, smile so wide... how big was the one that got away? le2018
  13. biglakejake

    buck pics in neighborhood

    i saw a few from long past generations while building Gold Canyon GC. and as you whizz by Kings Ranch Rd eastbound on 60 take notice of that little 15-20ft high mound in the median. great place to glass bucks during january archery during the early '70s.
  14. biglakejake

    short clip of something i have not seen before.

    i really typed that? prob tequila dreams or i done et the worm.
  15. biglakejake

    Elk openers remembered

    not much of a big snow!!! maybe 14" overall at npc in show low.
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