Meet Hap Walker

He is Highline Medical Center's facilities medical supplies distribution and sterilization manager. What that means is he is responsible for seeing that the various nursing floors and departments have the supplies they need to treat their patients and in addition to this he oversees the sterilization of all surgical instrumentation-- the whole magilla.

We were both in the hospital's Midway therapy unit and I urged him to sit down and talk. I found out he has worked for Highline for 32+ years, was born on a ten-acre farm on the Cowlitz River, loves fly fishing, and has a small collection of rifles and shotguns but, has not been hunting since he was five years old.

His dad gave him a BB gun one day just to plink at tin cans and taught him how to use it.

He was out in the family's barn looking for targets and spotted a sparrow on a high wire. He hit it miraculously and knocked it down.

He instantly began bawling from guilt, dropped the BB gun and ran into the house.

His Dad said, "Well, son, if you only wounded it, you need to kill it."

They went out to the scene of the deed and picked up the fluttering bird. Dad said the poor fledgling was suffering from a broken wing and then went into the house, got his 410ga. shotgun and showed Hap how to hold it and pull the trigger.

Hap who was still crying his eyes out wanted to take the sparrow to the vet but his dad said, "No, you need to kill it."

So Hap reluctantly pulled the trigger, feathers instantly went everywhere, the little bird disappeared and he has never hunted since.

I was stunned by the story.

When I was seven I made a sling shot, and used it to plink tin cans.

I had to tell Hap that one day I gathered some small rocks, walked across the street from our house into a small cluster of tall trees and spotted a baby Robin on a low limb.

I put a rock in the leather pouch and hit my target dead center. Right in his fluffy red breast. I was torn by guilt and turned tail, ran back to our house, raced down the basement and flung my deadly weapon into our wood-burning furnace.

Torn by guilt, I dragged myself outside, took one of my mom's trowels and went back to the woods to bury my evil deed.

Wow! My baby Robin was not in the weeds. I looked up and there he was back on his limb.

I was so relieved I started to bawl.

Then, I raced back to my basement to get my sling shot out of the furnace, vowing never to kill another baby robin in my whole life.

And not just because my slingshot was burned up.

Stepping out

Elsbeth and I were visiting Highline Hospital recently for some x-rays and afterward we went down to the restaurant and sat down at one of many tables.

I hung my cane (still in use since repairs on my fractured leg) on the edge of the table where it instantly slid off and clattered on the floor.

I bent over and discovered our names on a tile. I was amazed. I knew that there are hundreds of names on tiles honoring donors when the hospital was built but never knew we had bought one.

What a fun surprise to find it by chance. Just think. If I had not broken my leg I might never have known.

As my beloved mom used to say, "The Lord works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform."

I don't know if the hospital still does that but it was a pleasing discovery and I owe it all to that noisy cane.