He always got dressed up to go deer hunting. It was about reverence. "This is like church", he’d say, camel cigarette clinched between his teeth. "You don’t come into the woods with a Lynyrd Skynyrd tee shirt on when you are about to kill a deer. You come into the woods like you are going to a Sunday service. These animals are beautiful and tough, and they should be respected." He’d tighten up his bolo tie, stomp out his butt, hand me the rifle and start hiking into the trees. "Let's go to church..."