Introducing Ohio Camp Cooks featured member Mr. William (Bill) Everett.

Rogie, short for his pseudonym Rogue Warrior, has been with Ohio Camp Cooks from the very beginning.  He is one of the original "Sick Puppy" crew from the North American Hunting Club and official NAHC web site.  What can be said about this careing, warm, spiritual, steadfast man?  In my view, there simply aren't enough complimentary words that carry the weight or profound honor that he deserves.  Over the years he has shown a dedication to family and friends that reflects only good things on himself and those with whom he associates.  He brings honor to all of his many activities.  I am proud to call him friend and more proud that he calls me friend.   

     Bill is an avid sportsman involved  in hunting, fishing, motorcycle riding, and equine pursuits.These influences led him to his affiliations with numerous formal and casual groups where his leadership skills have been employed to the betterment of these associations.  One of his most recent affiliations is with the Patriot Guard Riders; an honorable group of motorcycle buffs who for the most part are American Veterans who provide tribute to our fallen soldiors at their graveside providing security, peace, and comfort for their berieved. 

    He is an invaluable member of Ohio Camp Cooks.  Always there to help a friend or fellow member in need with moral or financial support, a word of encouragement, or sound advice.  His wisdom and expertise relevant to survival skills and outdoor ventures is well recognized by our members and sincerely appreciated by them.

     Bill also has the gift of comedy and a great sense of humor with the good nature of a "sport" that goes along with it.  Here is an example of this written in his own words:

"Story time...

Back when I was a young feller in my late teens or early 20's, I always hung around Durango. CO to do my he77-raising and partying. There was a county fair and rodeo going on, and in those days I fancied myself to be a bad-a$$ed little cowboy dude. Probably the likker talking, but I did a little rodeoing on the amateur side before I decided it was too damned rough and breaking bones kinda stunk, for what amounted to a meager living...that kinda soured me. One night me and a bunch of friends were fart'n around on Main Street up there with our horses...I was a poor kid and didn't own a horse, but a friend always let me use one of theirs, Ol' Joe," so he'd get exercised. Anyway, a bet was made ($100) that I wouldn't ride Ol' Joe into Francisco's Restaurant and Cantina...went from just a bet to a double-dawg-dare. Huh! Can't pass that up, now can I...and still be called a man? The place was a local watering hole for the tourist crowd and had them batwing doors like in the cowboy movies. I rode Ol' Joe in there and made 'im rear up on his back legs like Roy Rogers...the tourists loved it...but the restaurant owners didn't like it...neither did the cops. Mighta been cuz Joe crapped on their rug. I got thrown in the hoosegow for drunk and disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. Lucky, the little he77-raising friends came up with the bet money and bailed me out...my fine was $100. A couple of years ago, Connie, Gary, and myself were up there on a poker run on the motorcycles. One of the places we had to go to get our ticket punched and draw a card was Francisco's. I told Connie and Gary the story while we were walking over there from where we parked. When we went in, the whole entry way got redesigned after my prank. Now you walk through the batwing doors, but theres a little "T" shaped entryway that you couldn't bend a horse around enough to get him in. Connie said, "Gee, ya couldn't ride a horse in here now!" and the Mexican woman who owns it said, "A guy did that a few years ago!" I giggled, and the Mexican woman walked right up on my toes, looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Eeet, was youuuu, Seeen-yore!" with a grin on her face. Connie and Gary thought I was making it up until that lady, out of the clear blue, verified what I told them." -- Bill