We knew each other during our high school days, but we weren’t close friends at the time. After high school we went our separate ways, as we traveled and lived in different parts of the United States and the world.

When we were both living in Moses Lake again, Jerry and I would run into each other from time to time and exchange pleasantries. One day, about 15 or so years ago, I called him and asked if he wanted to go fishing. He invited me to his house for a cup of coffee.

“Dennis, I have MS,” he said when we were seated at the kitchen table. “It’s the primary progressive kind.”

He explained his form of multiple sclerosis means the disease progresses at a gradually worsening rate without relapses or periods of remission.

“I won’t get any better, just worse,” he said.

Jerry had answered the door and climbed the short flight of stairs using only the wall and the railing to steady him.

“So…?” I said. “Let’s go fishing.”

“Guess I could, if you can put up with me,” he said.

This began the next period of our friendship. We enjoyed walleye fishing at Kris and Bob Chudomelka’s place, with a bunch of visiting happening, as Kris and Bob are also classmates from The Great Class of 1965. The time spent around the campfire at Kris and Bob’s was precious, but we also had fun catching fish.

About this time we linked up with Lani Schorzman and Thomas Steffens. We became The Hut Crew and actually built a cinder-block hut in our deer hunting area.

The Hut Crew was invited to fish for salmon on the Columbia River near Pateros, chase steelhead on the Snake River near Lewiston, hunt turkey near Colville and deer near Odessa. Jerry sparkled on every trip as he was again participating in outdoor adventures.

A typical day began with Jerry standing at his back gate, where he would have a cup of coffee in hand, a jacket and lunch.

“Ready for another adventure?” I would ask.

“You bet, let’s go.”

As time rolled by and his MS progressed, Jerry began using a cane and then two, followed by a walker and next a small motorized chair, which we could disassemble to get into the vehicle.

Jerry and I were able to visit in depth during our travels to Colville, Pateros, Clarkston and other points around the Northwest. At one point his attitude became negative.

“Why did this happen to me?”

“Jerry, try to turn everything into positive thinking.”

“How can any of this be positive?”

“You have a great opportunity, my friend.”

I explained how the stories about a disabled hunter and angler heading into the Great Outdoors and being successful would encourage others to do the same.

The strategy worked and his attitude changed in a positive direction. He was, in fact, approached occasionally by disabled people or family and friends of disabled people asking about the challenges involved in his adventures.

His disease continued to progress until he wasn’t able to hold a rifle, shotgun or reel in a fish. Fish and Wildlife allows a disabled hunter/angler to designate another to be the companion and hunt or fish for them. Several deer hunts and fishing trips were conducted in this manner. When he was tired, he would ask me to take his rod and bring in his fish.

On one hunt, Lani and I were in the front vehicle with Jerry following. A group of deer were near the road on land we were allowed to hunt. I stepped off the road and dropped one. Lani and I walked to the animal and began the field dressing procedure.

“Hey, wait for me,” Jerry said

He was trying to navigate his power chair through the soft dirt. We pushed and pulled him the final 10 yards and he was able to hold a leg as we worked on the animal and, therefore, he became part of the hunt team.

I remember Jerry balancing his rifle on a shooting stick with his walker standing to his right. His last turkey was taken with me holding and aiming the shotgun, but Jerry pulling the trigger. He wanted to participate and he did his best.

Now he is gone and there is an empty place in my life. I will think of him often, as if he was standing beside me, waiting for the deer or turkey to come into range.

Rest peacefully my friend.