I left behind many cherished childhood possessions to collect dust in my old bedroom when I moved out — their importance and value obscured by the excitement of a budding adulthood.
Sports trophies, books, my high school baseball jersey, posters, pictures, trinkets and toys were slowly forgotten. But my mother’s decades-long campaign to repurpose my former bedroom means I’ve amassed a considerable pile of old memories to trip over in our basement, including a cardboard box marked “Chris’ VHS tapes.”
My mother handed me that box and a canvas tote bag full of junk one day, with orders to take them home.
I wasn’t excited about trying to find space for more cultch in our small house with a growing family, but when I opened the lid, I couldn’t help but smile. Inside were all my old Realtree Monster Bucks, Primos The Truth, and Drury Outdoors Dream Season VHS hunting videos.
They were still in their original cases, in great condition, and to me, absolute treasures. They represented my good old days of hunting and fishing, when I wasn’t burdened by distractions or worry or constantly pulled in different directions.
I was free to focus on what I loved most: baseball and hunting.
If I wasn’t on a field, or in the field, I could most often be found repeatedly watching those VHS tapes, while tossing a ball into my glove. I remember watching in awe as hunters took massive deer from all over the country while offering commentary, tips and tactics.
I wanted more than anything to one day be in their shoes, and dreamed of chasing giant deer in far-away places for a living, provided I didn’t become a third baseman for the Atlanta Braves, that is.
I feel fortunate to have experienced my youth without Wi-Fi, high-speed internet and social media.
As a youngster with a voracious appetite for hunting and fishing, I consumed as much outdoor content as I could, which came in the form of magazine subscriptions, VHS tapes and weekend outdoor television shows on networks such as TNN, ESPN and CMT.
It was like Christmas morning each time I’d open the mailbox to find the latest subscription of Field and Stream, Outdoor Life or Peterson’s Hunting Magazine. The same was true late each summer, when local sporting goods stores would finally stock their shelves with the annual editions of Realtree, Primos and Drury Outdoors videos.
Burying myself in the pages of a hunting magazine, settling into the couch on Saturday morning to watch TV shows about the outdoors or popping in a hunting video always felt so special to me.
Hunting wasn’t the mainstream media sensation it is now, and I took a lot of pride in becoming a better hunter and outdoorsman through my rabid consumption of what was available.
Then, as with most things, the hunting, fishing and outdoor industry slowly evolved into the giant commercialized entity we know today.
I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to digital content and consuming outdoor social media. We have instant unlimited access to unbelievably amazing hunting and fishing entertainment. With a few clicks, or a simple online search, I can quickly find whatever I want in seconds.
But I find the more access I have, the more insatiable my appetite becomes, the deeper I fall into the rabbit hole, and the further I distance myself from the reasons I fell in love with the outdoors in the first place.
Opening that cardboard box was a much-needed refresher. As much as I love hunting, fishing and the outdoors, sometimes I find myself questioning why. Sometimes it seems I only head off into the field because it’s what I’m supposed to do, or what people expect of me.
But unboxing those old video tapes helped rekindle a youthful spark that started the fire all those years ago.
I recently found my old ball glove in that pile of memories we’ve been tripping over in our basement. The only thing missing now is a working VHS player.
Maybe that will be in the next bag of “junk” my mother sends home with me.
