Here is a picture of Luke’s father. We were out target shooting in the desert in Western Idaho. He died this morning. I only met him once but I will never forget the experience. Luke and I drove to Idaho for his sister’s wedding but first Jerry managed to round up the family, a sizable amount of guns and ammunition, and take us to the desert for a day of target practice. We shot at plastic gallon jugs full of water. Water would come out of the hole so we knew whether or not we hit the target. It’s hard to see a bullet hole at 300 feet. We also shot bottles and cans. After a few hours of shooting, Luke’s brothers and nephews and in-laws went home. Luke and I had planned on camping that night. A while before sundown Jerry said, “I am going to go home and get some steaks and some more ammo and spend the night out here with you.” He came back with a tent, lawn chairs, a BBQ, steaks and more ammo. It was pitch dark by then. He drove his car up to where the targets were and aimed his headlights so we could continue to shoot in the dark. In the morning he loudly admonished his poodle for breathing too loudly (or some such offense) saying, “BE QUIET. YOU’LL WAKE THE BOYS. TOO BAD THEY'RE STILL SLEEPING; THEY'RE MISSING A HELL OF A SUNRISE.” Two seconds later we got out of our tent and Jerry said, "You just missed a beautiful sunrise." He’ll be missed.