(HOST) You might be a little surprised to hear that commentator Willem Lange reads himself to sleep – with hunting catalogs.
(LANGE) I don’t get many catalogs in the mail, and I don’t want to. I used to get Hemmings’, with its lists of old cars for sale – Beetle convertibles, Jaguar roadsters, and 1950s Cobras. But the effect of all those beautiful cars, just out of my reach, was virtually pornographic: It created illicit fantasies that, if acted upon, would have proved ruinous. So I gave it up.
There was a time, though, long ago, I kept a catalog beside my bed to read myself to sleep. It was almost as fantastic; but I was young then, and anything was possible once I grew up.
It was produced by a mail-order business in Waseca, Minnesota, named Herter’s. It advertised everything from shoes and boots to tents, cooking gear, and fishing equipment. Almost every object offered for sale was "the world’s best," "famous," and "world’s fastest." There was nothing connected with the outdoors that Herter’s wouldn’t sell.
George Herter had some interesting political and scientific ideas, as well. During the Cold War, he published an antidote for radiation poisoning. Keep lots of tabasco sauce on hand, he advised, and if you’re exposed to radiation, or likely to be, eat lots of it for protection. I’m not sure that was the world’s best advice, but as you can tell, it was unforgettable.
Herter’s has been out of business for years now. An era passed when George folded his tents and sold the business.
All is not lost, however. I still get two catalogs – Bean’s and Cabela’s – and they’re still good for a late-night read. I can get a night-vision digital game camera. Strap it to a tree in a likely spot, and next day it’ll show me what passed during the night. Or a digital game call, loaded with 32 prerecorded predator and deer calls.
Here’s a sack of "bio-engineered enzyme technology" items designed to mask human scent, including toothpaste! Digital hearing aids, tree stands, radios, GPS units. The old man who taught me to hunt long ago would snort in disdain. His contribution to science was a clamp that held a flashlight on the barrel of his old Savage 99 for the gentle art of night hunting, prefiguring the laser sight by many decades.
Camouflage is the new chic. But why would I want a watch face I can’t see? Or cover my all-terrain vehicle (if I had one) with a camouflage cover? Two very important items haven’t been camouflaged – underpants and handkerchiefs. Many hunters, pausing for a breather, have been shot by overeager nimrods who thought they saw the flash of a deer’s white tail.
Somehow, the old fantasy refuses to revive for me. All the battery-powered gear doesn’t speak to me as does the simple feel of my old Winchester. I could go into the woods with enough gear to make me invisible, scentless, superauditory, and hawk-eyed. But there’d be one thing missing: the old urge to kill something.
This is Willem Lange in East Montpelier, and I gotta get back to work.
(TAG) For more commentaries by Willem Lange, go to VPR-dot-net.