When I was a 17 year old punk with long hair living in Texas, Ol' Mr Emmit lived across the dirt road from us.
I knew he didn't really like me, but he would always let me tag along while plinking or fishing or chasing his chickens, that got out. When I saw him walk into the woods, I would grab my rifle or fish-pole and run out to catch up to him.
He didn't hide the fact that he didn't like me (Hell, he once didn't even pay me for raking his yard (like, five acres!) because I did it wrong!), but he always tolerated me and we spent a lot of long afternoons together.
He out-fished and out-shot me to no end, like the dumb kid I was. He gave me better talks than I ever got from Dad. He taught me a lot about life, in a Texas kind of way.
He was a farmer's farmer. He was an old school Texan in denim overalls.
I wish I could have a good long afternoon with Mr. Emmit, today.