A Remembrance

My daughter started archery at the age of 12, in 1997. Within a year I had a sense she had found something she would commit to. In fact, I made it a part of our pact: If you will promise me that you stick to archery, I will buy you a bow, one piece at a time. Ironically, she had been persuaded by a friend in middle-school to "try it" when a math teacher suggested it to them. Her friend didn't really take to the sport but Linds was different.

"Yes, daddy", she promised. On one day, she promised, and kept that promise to me and to the sport for more than 11 years. At one pont she confided, "I can beat the boys" with a certain quiet satisfaction!

So I accepted her commitment to the sport. I took her at her word. Her mother and I had decided at an early age to treat her as a more mature person, figuring she would respond accordingly. Lindsey never heard baby talk, and was never treated like she couldn't do whatever she chose to do.

In my job of flying to every part of the country on a weekly basis, I happened to be in New Jersey. I siezed the opportunity and drove to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where I had heard there was an archery shop for recurve archers. In Austin, the ONLY archery store stocked great inventory for bowhunters, but nothing much for nearly-teenage recurve archers/girls.

What beautiful country is Lancaster! The textbook word is Pastoral - the countryside is just incredibly beautiful in a natural sense. There are Amish there, and the countryside actually looks like they care for every inch of it in their special concern for the world. It was one of the most singularly beautiful drives I have experienced, in 20+ years and 2.4 million miles traveling throughout the United States.

I used my "state-of-the-art" Delorme GPS, (not much in the way of smart phones at this point, though I have carried a cell phone since 1983) attached to a laptop with an orange plasma screen plugged into the cigarette lighter of the rental car, to find the place. I arrived fairly late in the day. I was confused at first but finally figured out I had to climb some stairs to actually get there, to the store.

I walk in and it looked kinda like the store back home, but instead of just one display row of gear, the rows just went on and on, maybe a dozen or more! My eyes were probably as big as my grin was wide. I wandered for a bit, just trying to take it all in. On one aisle, I saw a trio of dudes, dressed in homespun and overalls, with straw hats, what I would characterize as Amish, teenage male.

I distinctly picture in my mind the dichotomy of three things. Their attire and appearance on the surface. Their interest in the bolding glowing, shiny gold Compound bow they were holding and so intently eyeing with a well, sincere interest (A shallow wordsmith might throw in the word, "lust", but that's not me), and the inherent high-tech nature of the bow itself - it eptomized high-techiness!

I stopped for a few minutes, moving around them from a few feet away, and could not hear/understand what they were quietly saying - just couldn't eavesdrop well enough to understand their words. I would like to think they were describing to each other the nature of a compound bow's wondrous mechanical virtues, that fall entirely within the tenets of their philosophical guidelines. A certain lightbulb went off in my head, as I realized the Amish faith had some flexibility I did not really expect.

Leaving the three behind, I was on a mission. I made my way through EVERY aisle of the shop, drinking in all the different things that archers can have! I noticed the shooting range. I saw a tent-light contraption with some kind of projection function for shooting at video critters... Huh. Never seen that before!

I couldn't really find what I wanted, so I went to a counter, and talked to the first person who waited on me.

"I have a daughter that's 12 years old", I said, "she's not able to hold anything really heavy and she's just starting out". We talked a little, and I explained her unique complications. Wheelchair. Broken legs. Weak bones that break from stress or simple impacts. My concern that I didn't know much about the gear, but I wanted her to have something that she could grow with. I had mistakenly bought a non-ILF bow already, that was a dead-end which I wanted to avoid.

The guy at the counter, named Rob, listened, and he said something to the effect that no one had ever asked for the lightest riser. So he took me into the back room - a combination storeroom and shipping facility. Rob got a UPS shipping scale and cleared the counter around it. He got out one right-hand riser for *every* brand he had in stock.

The lightest riser was a $650+ Yamaha . Yikes! Too much for a first ILF riser! The next lightest was a blue Hoyt GM, and thus began a career-long dedication to one archery company's products. I bought the riser, got a catalog from Rob, thanked him profusely, and headed for the airport in New Jersey. On the flight home I went cover-to-cover through the book, and it dawned on me that the dude that had taken so much time with a rookie dad was actually the OWNER of the company.

Lindsey got the riser as a present, and at every step, every new piece, limbs, sight, arrows, stabilizer, etc. she made the conscious and well considered choice to stick with the sport.

I've become aware lately of just how much influence Rob has enjoyed and exerted in a positive way throughout the structure of archery - compound, recurve, and barebow - hunting, sport, and recreation - male and female - NFAA, ASA, IBO, USAA, FITA, pick your letters!, essentially every aspect of the sport, and not just in the US but throughout the world.

Rob facilitated Lindsey's beginnings and supplied the gear we needed, when we needed it. Without his help she would never have begun the path which reached a medal in Beijing a decade later.

Thanks, Rob.

Ron Carmichael, who eventually became a Level IV-NTS coach for USA Archery to match Lindsey's excellence in archery with some knowledge in coaching. It is important to keep up with the kids when/while you can!