Dad's Muzzleloader (Brad Kraker post)

I was at the range, as a 19ish year old kid, trying to figure out the muzzleloader I had purchased a few years prior solely because it was in my budget, and not because it was a quality firearm, by any stretch of the imagination. I had loaded up the maximum recommended amount of powder (because of my “more is better” philosophy at that time in my life), and seated some sort of projectile, which I’m sure was the most highly marketed “next big thing” that was available. I pulled the trigger, sending the bullet down range, but not hitting anywhere near the bullseye. I was oblivious to the fact that topping a $160 muzzleloader with a $40 scope all but guaranteed struggles at the range. Shortly after the smoke cleared, I heard a familiar voice, in a very familiar sarcastic tone, say “Good night! What. Were. You. Trying. To. Hit?” I looked behind me to see my uncle Rick, grinning ear to ear, with his cartoonishly massive forearms crossed over his chest, which was his signature stance. “You’re not even close!” He had a sense of humor that would either make you laugh, or cry, or wonder what the heck was wrong with him, lol. Thankfully I shared a fairly sarcastic sense of humor, and could give it back. He proceeded to tell me 2 reasons why I wasn’t on target. The first was, I shouldn’t be shooting one of those modern “in line” muzzleloaders. They were a cheater’s version of a muzzleloader. Any true marksman would use the old sidelock percussion cap style, and would be embarrassed to be seen with anything else. The second piece of advice was that I was shooting it backwards, which of course was making fun of me being left handed. It should be noted, that for my entire life, Rick was known as “Zreke”. I don’t know how or why this name came about, but I never questioned it. The fact is, if you are a Kraker, or you know a Kraker, or if you don’t know a Kraker but have possibly met one once, there’s a good chance you have a nickname. These nicknames aren’t offensive, unless you deserve it, but we Krakers must have some aversion to using names given at birth. Zreke and my dad worked together cutting trees for the better part of 30 years, and they are the two hardest workers I’ll ever know, and they were both strong as a bull. Their personalities, work ethic, and sense of humor are very similar. As a kid I was always amazed by how Zreke could run a chainsaw with one outstretched arm. Try it sometime. Good luck. Any time I needed help doing something requiring heavy lifting and/or insane amounts of physical labor, they were the ones to call. I recall one time I needed assistance getting an 800 pound file cabinet down a set of stairs, and dad and Zreke were there within minutes. Once the cabinet was downstairs, Zreke, who was built like a brick sh*thouse, for lack of a better term, took a couple of minutes to goof around with Evan, who was maybe 3 years old at the time. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do like it was yesterday. Evan was probably wondering who this gigantic but funny guy was. Back to the range part of the story. After suggesting that I ditch my muzzleloader and become right handed, Zreke pulled a muzzleloader of his own out of his work van, and I have to admit, I was jealous. It was, at the time, a .45 caliber (later changed to a .50, after a story that is too long to tell), with brass hardware, dark stained wood stock, double set triggers, and an octogon barrel, truly a sight to behold. THAT was a real muzzleloader. I recall many stories involving that old gun, some hits, some misses, and one year in particular where misfires (when you pull the trigger, but it fails to fire) were a source of much frustration for Zreke. I was not (and am still not) an overly talkative person in most cases, but I could talk to Zreke for hours, especially if the subject matter involved hunting or the shooting sports. I always, especially in my late teens years and after, considered him not only my uncle, but one of my better friends. I took his advice to heart, even when he told me to sell that gigantic .300 Remington Ultra Mag. No one needs something that huge, a .270 would do just fine. He was right. I sold that thing before I ever used it. Zreke was diagnosed with cancer and passed away in September of 2012. I remember the last time I visited him, probably trying to convince myself that we’d go to the range and shoot some tannerite or something. Cancer had taken his 240 pound frame and whittled it down to 160, he told me. I remember during that visit, he made a fist while he was talking. His hands were still huge. He passed away while I was on a bear hunting trip. Part of me wanted to make the drive back home to attend the service, but the other part of me knew what he’d say to me if he knew that I had done that, so I stayed up north. Two years ago, I’m not even really sure the sequence of events, but I “gained custody” of that old muzzleloader, and it immediately became my most prized possession. The brass had lost its shine, the hammer spring needed to be replaced, and there are scratches in the finish, but I don’t care. I made it my mission to take that old gun on one more deer hunt. I took it to the range, and had many struggles trying to get it to hit where I was aiming, after a lot of experimentation. I’m sitting in a canvas wall tent in Missouri as I type this, hours after successfully taking a nice deer with that gun. A nice doe walked past me at 18 yards last night, and offered me a frontal shot at close range. I took the shot, directly into the wind, and by the time the massive cloud of smoke cleared and I could see what happened, the deer was on its final run, hit through the heart. As I approached the deer and knelt down to appreciate it, I noticed it wasn’t a doe, but a small buck that had already dropped its antlers for the year. Hey Zreke, after all that time at the range, trying to figure out how to optimize accuracy, I figured out what to do. I think it’s backwards. You have to shoot it left handed. 🙂 Thanks Zreke.

 He taught me a lot about a lot. I was so surprised to find out he passed he was a great man not very easy to get to know but once you did I learned a lot from him and I’ll always remember him! A Good soul! Bob Morsink

 Carla I just thought of another Rick classic today and it really made me smile. I would enter it in that blog but I’m not good at maneuvering that but it was when he’d see a whole carload of people or just whenever he would say “ the whole famdamily” I’m sure you recall that too! Bob Morsink

I'm A Little Late With These

I was cleaning out some old picture boxes and I came across a note titled "Dad Memories". I had meant to add them to this blog a LONG time ago. I guess it's better late than never. Some of them are most likely repeats. Sorry, I didn't take the time to look. I hope they bring a smile to your face, like they did for me. 1. OUR HOUSE I had many memories written down of him working on mine and Jer's first house. That house was actually a combination of work from so many different people. We had grandpa Kraker replace our PVC pipe railings with actual wood and fix our ridiculously uneven stairs. Grandma Kraker put in many hours painting walls, and mom and grandma Kleinheksel put in many cleaning hours. Bry put in bathroom cabinets. I think almost all of you were part of our big painting project since Jer didn't like having a pinkish house! But dad, by far, spent the most time on that house. More than Jer or I. Dad gutted the bathroom, laid linoleum in the kitchen, carpeted, drywalled, supervised the painting (you know what I'm talking about) and made sure no paintbrush handles had any paint on them. When I had Jordyn, he helped us add a room on. When I had Jace, he connected our 2 dormers in the roof and moved us upstairs. He helped re-shingle the roof. No matter what project we had going, he was always there. I remember a few specific things. He had laid the linoleum in our kitchen and bathroom. When he finished, only I was there and he desperately wanted our refrigerator moved back into place. I told him Jer would be home soon, but when he wants something done, there is no waiting. He proceeded to move it himself. As he pushed it along our newly laid floor (which he had admired repeatedly as "looking darn nice"), he put a nice long scrape in it. I felt sick inside....it was brand new floor and a big ol' scrape. Of course, I complained and asked why he couldn't have just waited to move the fridge. His response, "Do you want me to make a scrape worth complaining about?" I knew to never mention it to him again. He never did compliment that floor as looking "darn nice" again though. Don't worry....there were plenty of other "darn nice" things in our house for him to comment on. I also remember him constanly complaining about our house not being square. He had lots of ideas of things we should do to improve the house...but none were ever in our price range. He hated our garage floor. To be fair, it was 1/2 cement and 1/2 dirt and very annoying. I think Jer heard this phrase 1,000 times. "It's too bad you don't know a good cement guy that could fix this floor." 2. OUR LAWN We only had a push mower and Jer worked a lot, so mowing fell on me. I tended to let it go a little too long. One day, the mower kept turning off on me....because the grass was too long. I didn't realize that was the reason at the time, so I called dad to ask him what was wrong with it. He just said the grass is probably too long and that was it. He didn't mention coming over and he was at work at the time. However, no more than an hour later, he shows up unannounced with a lawn mower on a trailer and proceeds to mow our lawn. You'd think I'd be surprised, but I wasn't. This was just typical for him. 3. ANDREW IN CHURCH Dad used to pinch our leg if we were being too loud in church. And it worked to keep us quiet....until Andrew came along. I remember dad leaning over and giving Andrew a good pinch on the leg, and then Andrew loudly declaring, "OUCH, that hurt!" We all know how much dad loved calling attention to himself. I think of this whenever I go to discipline my kids in church. 4. Repossessing My Car This happened when I worked at West Shore Counseling. I don't remember the reason that he had to come there. I probably forgot something and he was dropping it off. Anyway, I wasn't at my desk when he walked in and the girl who was at my desk had no idea who he was. He asked her to find me and then proceeded to tell her that he was there to repossess my car. I'll never forget the look on her face when she came to let me know that someone was taking my car. 5. A Couple Small Things When he called the dishwasher our cupboard. When he called our stairs the shelves. Singing Great big globs of greasy grimy gopher guts Doing I'm a Little TeaPot motions with us as kids, and also climbing up his legs and flipping us over When he always asked me if I "had a monopoly on the bathroom" Tubing at Dumont and whipping Bryan and Mike Becksvoort thru the reeds.

Can I have more please?

After writing this I realized Chad posted this same thing a while back. Just thought I would share one more time with a picture!

 For our immediate family the picture below does all the speaking. For others, I may have to explain.... This was a familiar sight if you ever had to ask Dad to get you some more to drink. First he would pour out about two drops. After asking for more a few times he would finally give in. The result is shown below. A cup filled to the edge forcing you to slurp it up. Kenlie thought this was pretty funny :-)

In the Trees

If you have any pictures of Dad in the trees. Please email them to me so I can add them to this post. Thanks

Bloody Nose

Recently a couple of familiar phrases came to mind.  I'm not sure if they were Dads, maybe you can can confirm or deny weather or not they are his.

Elijah had a bloody nose today and the phrase "picking and a grinnin"  came to mind.

Also,  Amber had something in her eye the other day and as she was telling me about it she was poking at her eye with her finger.  I told her "it's your finger, get it out of there"  which I'm almost certain was what I heard from Dad whenever I had something in my eye.

Speaking of Grinning---- This is a picture of Dad in his "nice piece of bass" shirt, that I'm sure he NEVER wore in public.