Finding Solace in Roosevelt: A Story of Healing and Rediscovery
By Joe Meador
I’ve always enjoyed history and learning about how things were done in the past, everything from building to governing, to currency. I think what interests me most is the people, their ways of life, and how they survived.
I recently read a book by Teddy Roosevelt called “The Wilderness Hunter”. The book focused on hunts that TR had been on throughout the time he lived in The Dakotas. Whenever I start a new book, if it doesn’t captivate my attention by the end of the first chapter, odds are I won’t finish it. Reading Teddy Roosevelt’s book, it had my attention by the end of the first page. He could paint a picture through words that made me feel like I was right there with him on this hunt, I could smell the sage, feel the wind and the limbs cracking under my feet, the rocks falling from the side of a hill as I made the journey with him. There were times I could even feel the rifle kick my shoulder as he pulled the trigger to bring down an elk, a blacktail, or whitetail deer. I could feel the cold blowing through me as he described the wind chill, the fire warming up my fingers, and the rain hitting my hat as I scrambled under a tree to escape a storm.
I imagined what it would be like to be sitting by a campfire with a pot of coffee and some biscuits cooking, and looking over my right shoulder to see Teddy Roosevelt walking up, leading his horse, and saying, “Howdy friend, can you spare a cup of that hot coffee?” Then sitting down on the log and visiting with me for a while as he filled his belly and warmed himself by the fire before riding off to finish his hunt.
Teddy Roosevelt probably did more for parks, wildlife, and conservation than any other person or group in our history. Thanks to him and his insight, we have great national parks and forests. We have wildlife conservation laws to help us pass down hunting and fishing to future generations.
President Roosevelt’s life wasn’t always easy; he was sickly as a child and suffered his fair share of losses throughout his life. He lost both his mother and wife on the same day, in the same house, on Valentine’s Day, February 14, 1884.
When Teddy Roosevelt closed his eyes for the very last time, on January 6, 1919, he left behind a legacy that no other individual or group could ever rival.
Seven years ago, I lost my daughter (Jessica) and grandchildren (Jaydon and Leah), ages twenty-six, six, and five, to a DUI driver. Prior to their deaths, I always had a passion for the outdoors, hunting, fishing, and traveling. It was my life’s goal to work until I was fifty-five, then pack up, sell out, and move to Alaska to live off the grid. I wanted to try for five years, but I had decided I would take it day by day.
The death of my family took the wind out of my sails. I no longer found joy in hunting, fishing, or being alive for that matter. I spent countless hours in therapy and found myself spiraling down into a dark place. Fortunately for me, I had some great lifelong friends that pulled me up and dusted me off. Some of my friends knew each other, some didn’t, but they all had one common thread to offer me, “What do you think Jessica would want you to do?” “She would want you to live your life to the fullest for her and the kids and be happy”. It’s easier to hear someone say that than it is to act on it. I like to think that Teddy Roosevelt had a plethora of friends like my friends, Travis, Hayden, Clay, Laura, Cindy, and Mr. and Mrs. Kluna, to give him the same advice I was given.
I’ve learned not to take life for granted, because granted it will take your life. Thank you, God, for giving me the strength and friends to help me live again.
Dear readers, we urge you to please drink responsibly, ensuring the safety and well-being of yourself and those around you.
Joe Meador
Spent over 20 years in the Petroleum Transport business before retiring in 2018 to start other adventures. He currently resides in a small Southeast Texas town enjoying the quiet life. When he isn’t working, he can be found in the woods hunting, or casting a fly in a mountain stream.
