Out with a bang and in with an ouch

Happy New Year, dear readers, with a caveat.

The other day I went to the attic and brought down a dozen large boxes of photographs and slides from years gone by.

I needed a reality check because, for me, 2008 came and went almost as fast as the sudden arrival of the infamous Cook County sales tax hike.

I spied a picture of my Uncle Harry and me with our cane poles, sitting on boat cushions at the Horseshoe on Lake Michigan. We were catching perch and having a good time.

Will we ever see those days again? I mean, that was an era when thugs didn't hassle fishermen. That was a time when life was much easier for families. And perch were plentiful.

There was a faded, color snapshot of Lenny Jurek sprawled on the floor of an old boat drifting along on a quiet Lake Zurich. We were teenagers who stayed out all night fishing for whatever would hit the live bait. No problems there either, except for a few bug bites.

I laughed when I looked at the black and white photo of me holding up a jumbo crappie after catching it from the waters of the Caldron Falls Reservoir near Crivitz, Wis. I had found a pot of gold right near the dock.

My fish basket was loaded with huge slabs. My father couldn't believe it when he returned to the pier after a day of smallie and crappie fishing with my mother.

I could fill pages with descriptions of most of those "adventures," but I won't.

We face another tough year, both in the economic and social arenas.

Here in Illinois, us common folk wonder if there will be a paycheck at the end of the week. Here in my home state, I wonder if those simple pleasures many of us once enjoyed will go by the boards, just like many of the other treasures we've come to love over the years as they pertained to fishing and hunting.

Some colleagues in the outdoors writing business continue to collectively shake their heads over the fact that the Illinois Dept. of Natural Resources, once a major player in the world of bureaucracies, is now barely able to keep its head above water, so to speak.

The DNR was once the talk of the nation because of its innovative programs and scientists that filled its ranks. But now a mild-mannered, politically motivated caretaker in the form of Sam Flood sits in his office wondering why he agreed to step in and keep the seat warm at the behest of our beleaguered governor.

The DNR's bank account is gasping for air while those dedicated employees left treading water exhibit signs of major depression.

And what about the simple things in our lives that used to bring joy to a 10-year-old?

What about a state park like Starved Rock that was once the diamond in the tiara of our state park system?

In 2007 and '08 we heard the politicians tell us there wasn't enough money to sustain the programs many of us grew to love and enjoy. So the governor went ahead and "swept" cash from dedicated fish and wildlife monies, cash we laid on the counter for upland bird hunting, et al., and left us high and dry.

Libertyville hunter and angler Randy Novak called me and declared he's all through with the Illinois (as he put it) scams. He declared he'll no longer fish and hunt in the state where he was born.

I tell you that, despite all the good work the IDNR has done over the decades, the feedback I've received indicates regiments of outdoors people are going over to the dark side and refusing to fall prey to the Illinois bait-and-switch tactics.

Even though it would mean a cut in salary, I say it's time to bring Brent Manning back into the DNR fold and let him work his miracles like he did when he was director of that once-great agency.

That would be the best New Year's present in these troublesome times.

angler@mikejacksonoutdoors.com