Father-in-laws.

When you marry into a family, along with it come other people who either accept you or they don’t. Sometimes they fake it in the beginning and then their true colors come out. I am one of the lucky ones, my father-in-law from the day I first shook his hand has always treated me like a member of his family. Pretty darn cool.

I call my father-in-law by his first name---Harold--and out of respect our youngest daughter carries the initial of his middle name and his son’s first name. I can think of no greater honor; in our religion we name our children after deceased members of the family, and even though Harold is very much still with us, his son Byron is not. The letter “B” honors both of these very important men to our family. On my side of the family, my Dad’s Dad has been honored many times as has my Mom’s Dad; when our children have children, I know my Mom will be honored. I am not ready to honor my Dad yet, although I am sure it will happen, thankfully he is in good health and we have plenty of time as there are no children on the horizon!

This being Father’s Day weekend, I am going to write about both my father-in-law and my Father---I can’t think of two men who deserve it more.

Harold Barroner Smith was born in Mississippi (I am often asked by my 7-year old daughter if I know how to spell the state) and lived a lifestyle that I suspect was no breeze. He came from a fairly large family and was fortunate to pull up his bootstraps and make something of himself; turns out he lost a coin toss with his brother to determine who would be going to college. Frankly, I would have asked for two out of three but I guess it was winner take all. With the option for college appearing removed, he joined the military and went to West Point---by doing so, he received his education and became an officer.

With two tours of duty in Vietnam, countless moves around the country (and the world) he and his wife would pack up the family and move to wherever he was needed. As an officer, the family was able to see a lot, but it was a challenge to develop roots in one place. My wife, for example, lived in 20+ locations while growing up. After Harold retired, he went back to school to become an attorney in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Yes, Idaho.

Living in Coeur d’Alene has provided a lifestyle that he loves; he can practice his craft, still does, and every fall he goes out with “the boys” into the wilderness on hunting and camping trips. Obviously we have nothing in common here as the only type of shooting I do is with a Nikon, not a Winchester—and camping, it's not my thing.

Trips like this may sound great to many of the readers of “Snap.Shot.” but did I mention they travel by horseback? Also, there are times when the weather gets treacherous, as it did a few years back, and it was not what I would have called a pleasure trip. Determined to put that behind him, he went back the next year.

Harold has lived, and continues to live, a life that’s so different than what I have lived. Getting to know him, as I have over the past 8 years, has been something I have enjoyed and treasured (he also is a photographer so we have that interest as well). I don’t see him as often as I would like, he does live in Idaho after all, but would like to go shooting with him one day---with a camera, not a gun.

The photo above was taken during the holidays---surrounded by 2 of his granddaughters you can see the twinkle in his eye, more hair on his head than most 20 somethings, and a Nikon D300 wrapped around his neck. Getting to know H.B. Smith is something anyone would enjoy---with his southern drawl, and his genuine warmth, he is the kind of father-in-law any one who marries into a family could ask for.

Thanks for stopping by.