If you're fortunate enough to enjoy the great outdoors this weekend - whether it's hiking, hunting or fishing - pause to thank a veteran.

They fought for our country so we can enjoy freedoms such as these outdoor pursuits. I'll never forget one certain World War II veteran I was lucky enough to meet ...In James Gately's basement, rows of recycled jars and coffee cans were labeled for their contents, which were various sizes and types of screws, nails, bolts, etc. There were rows of sturdy, handmade shelves, their contents also neatly lettered on masking tape. He was moving from his house to an apartment, which would be close to where his daughter lived. His wife had passed away, about two years before his move.He knew he had to downsize, but hated the thought of just throwing things away, not if someone could use them. He needed someone's help, someone to help him pack up and scale down the things he had accumulated in his life. I knew the real estate agent who was listing his house; she knew I had a truck and enclosed trailer.Three days later, I'd delivered furniture to Schuylkill County's Women in Crisis center and household items to the Pottsville Salvation Army. I wouldn't need to buy screws, nails or bolts for years.He'd given his lawn mowers and snowblower to neighbors, and the items he was taking were neatly packed in boxes, stacked in his car's back seat and trunk.He insisted on sweeping and mopping floors, from attic to basement, and even wiping out the inside of the kitchen cabinets. That's the way he wanted to leave it."Now it's ready for a new family," he said about the house. We were finished, standing by the front door. I'd learned many of his stories, and he'd learned many of mine. I felt like crying."One more thing," he said, opening the hall closet. He handed me a double-barreled shotgun."I know you love hunting, and nobody in my family hunts," he said. "I want you to have this, and my only request is that you send me some pictures from when you use it."It's an old Ithaca, feather light, the Flues model, with an engraved setter by the triggers, showing signs of much use and good care. The first thing I noticed was how heavy it felt, compared to the bird gun I already had - a gleaming, classy, over-and-under model with multiple chokes and a custom walnut stock.One day, hunting for pheasants out in Kansas, I left the new shotgun in camp and hunted with the old Ithaca. Truth be told, I did so partly because the weather was so bad, alternately blowing sleet and snow. I didn't want my "good" shotgun out in that weather.My dog Josey finally pinned the first rooster, which burst up at 40 yards, rising fast, straight out. I got my face on the stock and shot without thinking, without aiming - no fiber optic sight on the old gun - and the bird folded and dropped out of the sky.As I hunted through the day, with one dog, then another, then both, I began to store up things to tell James Gately - the badger one of the dogs found in its hole, the coyote we bumped out of the thick sorghum, how tight the hens held, the surprisingly loud thumps the pheasants made hitting the ground under the thick skies, which rendered the day otherwise soundless. And especially, I would tell him about the end of the cover in the first big field, where 20 pheasants got up.I'm the only member of my family to own guns, so I don't have anyone to ask. When you use a gun given to you by a special person, do you feel like that person is with you in the field? At day's end, when you clean a gun, do you think about how many times other hands have done the same thing? Do you think about the quality of that person, and that person's generation, does it make you proud to use the gun?The next morning, in camp, I laid them side by side, the scarred Ithaca and the shiny over-and-under. I looked from one to the other, back and forth.The sun was out and the birds waited. I grabbed the Ithaca, the trusted everyday gun of a World War II vet. That day I started a tradition that I've kept ever since - I like to offer up a little tribute for all the veterans who fought to uphold our right to bear arms. As I entered the field and my dog scampered eagerly away, I paused. "James Gately," I whispered. "Thank you."James Gately passed away June 26, 2013. Here is the opening line of his obituary, "James Gately, 95, died peacefully after having lived a lifetime of kindness and generosity to others."