Red Dot Shot

By Kramer Elkman

Things happen for a reason, or so I am told. The events described in this book actually happened. This story is real. The explanations for the bizarre happenings will probably be as confusing to you as they are to me.

Embark with me on this journeymy quest to find answers and obtain closure for the unresolved issues that occurred and stayed unresolved for five decades.

This story is much more than an incredible hunt; it goes much deeper than that. Join me in my search for truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514454763

Kramer Elkman

I have heard it said that we are products of our environment. If that is the case, I consider myself in my own microclimate. Choices between right and wrong must be made, especially at one’s crossroads. If it doesn’t feel right, it is probably wrong. I try to think outside the box, even though I have felt like I have been trapped inside one. I live for life and the excitement it brings each day. I try to not let the events of the past cloud my experiences, even though there is still some residual effect. Learning and growing from my experiences is my ultimate goal, as well as to share those experiences with others. I am elated to share this story with you. I hope it will bring a sense of assurance that no matter what your situation brings, answers can be found if you look for them.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Kramer Elkman.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016901540

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-5478-7

                Softcover        978-1-5144-5477-0

                eBook             978-1-5144-5476-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/28/2016

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1 Life in Strife

Chapter 2 The Hunt

Chapter 3 The Aftermath

Chapter 4 Are You Kidding Me

Chapter 5 The Continuing Aftermath

Chapter 6 Crossroads---Pathway to Freedom

Chapter 7 Best Friends

Chapter 8 The Split

Chapter 9 Could This Be Love?

Chapter 10 Is This the Life I've Been Searching For?

Chapter 11 The Betrayal

Chapter 12 The Strange Event

Chapter 13 Absence of Answers

Chapter 14 The Response

Chapter 15 Baggage Claim

Chapter 16 Back to the Wilderness

Chapter 17 A Glorious Day

Afterword

Introduction

There are many instances in life when we may wonder if we made the right choice when we came to a crossroads. Different outcomes occur, depending on the path chosen.

I chose a certain journey, and I encountered many obstacles along the way. In a way, however, I feel as though the journey chose me. I believe that things happen for a reason, although I am not quite sure why.

This book is based on a true story; every event described actually took place and the quotes are verbatim. I have heard it said that truth is stranger than fiction. In that case, this story is very strange indeed.

Rarely are good stories about good things. Most stories are about struggles between good and not-so-good. Conflict and strife make for good reading. People react to different situations differently. This story will show you how I reacted to mine. There is a significant message that I must tell. The story is true, but I have changed the names of the people involved to protect their privacy.

Now, put your trays in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts. You are in for a very bumpy ride!

Chapter 1

Life in Strife

Growing up was difficult for me. Of course, all children experience a degree of difficulty in growing up. They must learn right from wrong, as well as learn how to do things right. They endure discipline and have experiences that help to shape who they become and the abilities they have. Sometimes, they get it right, but quite often, they don't. With support and encouragement, however, they can lean toward positive directions and, ultimately, become successful in their endeavors as adults.

I didn't have a pleasant or happy childhood. It wasn't an impoverished life, but something was missing; something was not quite right. I felt it necessary to love, honor, and respect my mother and father. I wanted their approval, but I didn't seem to get much approval of anything that I did. It was confusing, and it baffled me.

Something bothered my father. It may have been something that happened in his past, or maybe he felt he'd been deprived in some way. There was not much communication between us. I tried to get him to talk about his past, but he wouldn't open up about it. I was not allowed to meet my father's father. My father told me only that my grandfather was not a good man---he wouldn't say how he came to that conclusion.

I most desperately wanted to have a dad who showed genuine interest in his children and was willing to spend time with them, playing games and throwing a ball around. Being a parent is much more than just making babies. A child needs to be encouraged, directed, and loved. Love was missing when I was a child. Nothing that I did made my father happy.

I began to feel that there was something wrong with me because my father didn't accept me for who I was. Still, I tried my best to please him, wondering if that day would ever come when he would be proud of me. I wanted to receive that heartfelt hug and pat on the back and hear a resounding Good job, son.

When I was six years old, my father took me to the rifle range to teach me how to shoot my .22-caliber rifle. I learned how to care for the gun properly, and my aim improved. My father was all about hunting, fishing, and camping---that is all that we ever did when I was growing up. My father had grown up in the back country of Colorado, so he was familiar with those particular activities. It might have been that hunting and fishing were all he knew, or maybe he felt proficient in them. Some children might love the opportunity to go hunting and fishing, but I wished that we could have done other activities as well. Still, I was grateful for those fishing and hunting trips. I am sure my father bagged a lot of game in his days in Colorado, as he was quite experienced in hunting and tracking. In the forties, there was plenty of game to hunt.

I didn't receive positive responses at home, and I was starving for attention. Yet even though I needed more attention, I did not understand how to get the proper positive attention. I was quite shy. I didn't understand why my father didn't seem happy with me, and I struggled with that, psychologically. I desperately wanted acceptance and love.

When I was in the third grade, my teacher realized that something was not quite right with me. I must have been acting up in class, but from my standpoint, I didn't know what I was doing wrong. It seemed that the teacher was bullying me or that she wanted to make an example out of me. She made me stay indoors for every recess, and while the other students were playing on the playground, I had to write out the spelling list, ten times for each word. I barely had enough time to complete the task before recess was over.

When it was time for the spelling tests, though, I got 100 percent on all of them. I finally pleased someone---my teacher---as I couldn't do with my father. I only wanted to make him happy and proud of me.

I became involved in the Cub Scouts and enjoyed that very much, and I interacted with the other scouts fairly well. I began to open up a little, and being in Scouts made me feel better about myself. In fact, I felt a lot better than I had felt before that time, when I'd focused on the lack of feeling loved and my not being told that I was loved, which is important in a father/son relationship. Back then, I asked myself, Why am I here if I make my father so angry? No child should feel as rejected as I did. All I wanted was to make my father proud of me. Little did I know, however, that this would never happen.

I entered the Pinewood Derby and crafted the entire car almost entirely by myself. My father did not spend any of that quality time with me. Either he didn't know how to do so, or he didn't want to spend that time with me. I managed to take second place in the derby, which was quite an achievement for me.

The Cub Scouts also offered archery classes, and I begged my father to let me take class. I wanted him to buy me a bow, but he wouldn't. He would say, You'll hurt yourself. I got into the class anyway and used their equipment---nothing more than a plastic bow. Every time I had the chance at Scouts, I practiced. Then, the following spring, they had an archery contest, and I took second place. That was a big moment for me. Still, I didn't receive any acknowledgement or recognition from my father.

Every summer, our family would go fishing. We'd troll for fish from a small aluminum boat that had a small ten-horsepower outboard motor. Many times, I would catch the biggest fish. I was just lucky that way.

Several times, we went out on the Pacific Ocean to fish for salmon. This was not pleasant for me, as I had a propensity for motion sickness. In fact, I dreaded going on those trips because I knew that I would most certainly heave over the side of the boat. Still, I caught the fish. (Could that have been because I was chumming for the fish with my own vomit?) My father always told me that my getting seasick was all in my head---and, in a way, it was. I had an inner-ear dysfunction that made me nauseated.

When I was about nine years old, my father started taking me deer hunting. That was pretty cool. I anticipated bagging my own deer and was pretty excited. We hunted in the Cascade Mountains of Washington. My father always told me to stay close behind him while we were hunting. I didn't know if it was because he didn't want me to get lost or if he wanted the first chance to shoot at the game. As I walked behind him as we went through the woods, he would hang on to the fir branches, but then he'd let go of the branches without looking to see where I was. The branches would whap me in the face. It didn't take me very long to determine the distance that I needed to keep away from him so that didn't keep occurring.

As we would trek through the woods, he would tell me to stop dragging my feet and making so much noise. At times, it was difficult for either one of us to be quiet and stealthy, but he would tell me, Don't spook 'em. I tried my best to walk quietly through the brush and thought that I did a pretty good job of it. I wanted to please him, so I did what he told me to do. Still, whatever I did it never seemed like enough. He would still say, Don't spook 'em, even when it appeared that he was making as much noise as I was and even though I was trying to be as quiet as possible and still keep up with him. I guess that we made too much noise when hunting together as a pair. We never managed to bag a deer.

After we moved to Oregon, we went hunting a few times, and we hunted the same way. We didn't see much, and still got nothing, until one hunt when I drew a doe tag. This allowed me to bag one female deer. I managed to get my doe tag filled that year. That was the last time we went hunting for deer with a rifle.

We always had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, and I was thankful for that---some children don't get that. We lived in a modest house, nothing fancy, but although there was a house, there wasn't a home.

I could not understand why it was an unachievable goal for me to please my father. Did he have a past that caused him to be distressed? I wish that things could have been different. I often wonder if I'd have become a different person if I'd had the emotional support I needed. Could I have been more successful in my career or my relationships, especially with the opposite sex? I will never know how my life might have been different, but everything happens for a reason.

I like to think that I am in control of the paths and detours I encounter though life, but some things are by design. I believe in God. Throughout life, many diverse scenarios are played out to see how well we deal with issues---call them tests of faith and resolve. Everyone is dealt a certain set of issues. Some do well while others do not. I do not feel that I have done well in dealing with my issues, but it is important to the understand of the rest of the story.

By the time I was eleven years old, we'd moved to another state and bought a small farm. I learned the value of hard work, and it helped to build my self-esteem. I always did what my father told me to do---it was my yearning to please him and make him proud of me. Of course, that wasn't going to happen.

When I turned fifteen years old, I got my driver's permit and finally got some freedom. I turned to snow skiing for excitement---I'd always been a snow lover. I liked the way its glimmering white blanket covered everything and gave the illusion that everything was purified, if only for a brief time. I went up to the mountains as often as I could and took skiing lessons, from beginner to advanced skiing.

My doctor told me that I should not go out for sports, as it might damage my knees. I had Osgood-Schlitter disease, a condition in which the leg bone grows faster than the developing tendon, resulting in a possible separation from the bone. It caused me some minor pain at times. I would not have done well in team sports anyway, due to my insecurities. Still, I chose to go skiing instead, a very physical sport that can be hard on the knees. Thankfully, I didn't have any problems with my knees---or anything else---related to my skiing. I got pretty good and built up tremendous endurance. I wanted to show my parents that I could do something well, but they weren't interested.

I thought I could become an Olympic skier and mentioned it to my father. He said that there was no money in that, and I felt like I had been misdirected again. I couldn't understand it; I thought it would make him proud.

Years later, I encountered a professional skier who thought I was so skilled that he asked me what circuit I was on. Of course, I wasn't on a pro circuit. I told him that if I competed professionally, I might not enjoy skiing as much, and I was having a blast, cruising though the moguls and making it look easy.

When I turned seventeen, my father gave me a gift.