Elgie (EL-gee) was an interesting guy to hunt with, to be in deer camp with and to visit with at home. He was 40 years older than me, but that didn’t matter. He was the only deer hunter I knew who wrote poetry. He took things seriously when he had to, of course, but he also liked to liven things up when he could.
At a bunco (a dice game played with partners) party one Saturday night at my parents’ house, he asked my mother if she wanted to split a piece of cake with him for dessert.
“Sure,” she said, expecting half the piece.
She got half alright—the bottom half. Elgie turned his knife flat and sliced the piece horizontally, keeping the half with all the chocolate frosting.
“I kept my word, didn’t I”, he demanded.
“Yes, you did,” Mom said, “but not the way I expected. You misled me.”
