Dear Santa,

This year there are a couple of things I really need. I’d ask my wife but there’s just no telling what I’ll end up with if I do. A while back I asked her to stop by the local store and buy me a box of 165-grain boat-tail spitzer bullets for my .30-06. She showed up with a box of fully loaded cartridges, complete with 150 grain full metal jacket bullets.

“Grains don’t weigh very much,” she said. “And I thought I’d save you the time of reloading them.” Wasn’t that sweet? So now you understand why I need your help.

My first request is for a personal locator beacon. If you’ll recall, I ran into a little trouble last year when my back went out during a solo elk hunt. I couldn’t get up for three full days and was stuck in camp alone with no communication outside. It could just as easily have happened in the bush and a PLB might have saved me.

I would ask for a satellite phone as well but then I’d just have to talk to people. What sense would that make?

My wife says I need to ask for a set of hearing aids. She says 20 years of flying helicopters and a lifetime of shooting has ruined my hearing and I rarely hear her. But I can do without them for a while longer, Santa. Being hard of hearing has its perks.

I need a new float tube, also. The one I’ve been using is just a single tire tube with a fabric seat attached. Recently I leaned a bit too far back and rotated to an inverted position. The problem with being upside down is the lack of available oxygen. It’s impossible to right yourself when your head is three feet under the water and your flippers are waving to your friends, so you have to swim down until your flippers clear the fabric saddle. It would be fairly easy to drown yourself doing exactly what I did, which I suspect is why they don’t make float tubes like mine any more. Could I have one of the newer, more stable models?

I’ve been having a little problem with my memory as well. In fact, I’ve forgotten some of the things I was going to ask for. Perhaps you could bring me some of the herbal medicine that improves memories. I can’t remember what they call it but I think it’s named for a lizard. That’s it, Gecko … Gecko Balboa.

I could use another shotgun, Santa. It doesn’t have to be new because I’ll use it for chukar hunting and it won’t stay new after the first tumble I take down a talus slope. Last year I put two more serious dents in the barrel of the old double-barreled 12 I’ve been using and I don’t know how many more times I can have the barrel hydraulically smoothed out before it experiences metal fatigue. Maybe a nice, double-barreled 20 this time, chambered for three-inch shells, modified-improved chokes.

And finally, Santa, I’d really like another pair of boots. Don’t listen to my wife. She says I need a new pair of dress shoes; that I am boot rich and shoe poor. You can’t trust someone who thinks a few grains won’t make any difference in bullets, can you? I’ll admit to having several pairs of boots, but every one of them fills an important niche. I was going to tell you about them here but the list is a little long and might give you the wrong impression. I need a pair of those nice lightweight leather and canvas hiking boots with a soft, self-cleaning sole. They’ll be a nice change of pace from my heavy, Vibram-soled hunting boots.

Thanks a lot for listening, Santa. I appreciate your time and your interest. I’ll leave a nice surprise for you on the hearth, in case you are tired of milk and cookies by the time you get to our house. Twelve years old. Sour mash.

Oh, and I guess you could bring me a pair of dress shoes, too, if you want, Santa. Size 11. I don’t care what kind or color.

Pat Wray can be reached at patwray@comcast.net.