Birth date: Sep 23, 1937 Death date: Aug 10, 2013
Mr. Jack William Southland, age 75, passed away Saturday afternoon, August 10, 2013. He was born September 23, 1937 in Muskegon to William and Jennie (Noordhof) Southland. Jack was a U.S. Army Veteran of the Vietnam Era and a memb Read Obituary
Our deepest sympathy to the Southland family in the loss of your husband, dad and grandpa! The video tribute was awesome and told the story of who he was as a man. You are in our prayers! Love, Brett and Kristi Bartolameolli and family
Our EVERY memory of Jack equates to a image of each of you>..inspired-Gentle-Loving. Keep up his hard and Wonderful work. This world is a better place due to knowing Jack. I often found myself feeling quilty for telling my Family how Wonderful Jack and Ellen are at times probably more than I told my OWN family how wonderful they are. What a blessing in the thought that my 14 year old daughter got to meet jack and the Wonderful memories that He brought us and Dolores, Colorado! We are blessed and we will cherish his memories forever.
Dad already posted one but I wanted to post a comment/story as well. I think dad is one of the few people that ever went out hunting and returned with a stray hunter. From that day forward our lives weren’t quite the same once Jack and Ellen entered our lives. Over the years they became fixtures in our lives, stopping through on their way to Colorado every summer and coming for the last couple weeks of January to hunt birds. The first few years they would stay in at the motel in Wymore when they came in January, but it got to the point where almost every night after Jack got done hunting they would come out to visit and eventually they decided to finally just stay with us at home. Those visits in January became a highlight of my school years because I got to come home every day from school for two or three weeks and find Ellen had made cookies or monkey bread and had dinner already planned as we waited for Jack to come back from hunting. Dad and Jack would talk late into the night, and I would always have to go to bed before everyone else, which I hated cause it meant not getting to hear all the stories and miss some of the lessons. Eventually it got to the point where I started referring to Jack and Ellen as my “Third Set of Grandparents” as that was the most simple and accurate way to describe them.
We heard all the updates on daughters and sons-in-law and of course the grandkids. We got to meet “Big” Adam, Kevin, and “Little” Adam as they came on trips with Jack and Ellen. Dad and I eventually got the opportunity to take Jack on an antelope hunt out to Dad’s clients’ ranch in Wyoming and it was one of the most fun and memorable trips I have ever taken.
One of my favorite Jack stories occurred during one of their stops on the way out to Colorado one summer with “Little” Adam. Since there isn’t anything to hunt in Southeast Nebraska in summer, we went fishing where I think Jack got his first experience fly fishing for pan fish. We caught a very nice mess of fish and Dad cleaned them with the electric fillet knife. So, since Dad had filleted the fish, Jack volunteered to cook them for supper. He sat out on the back step of their camper with an electric skillet and breaded and fried them up, bring them in to the house a plate at a time.
After about the third batch Ellen looked at the plate he had just brought in and said “Man, doesn’t that skillet hold more than that?” Jack got that sly little grin on his face and finally admitted that he was eating some as they got done. I’m willing to bet that he ate close to a quarter of the fillets he fried that day.
Those days walking CRP, sitting in the duck blind, calling crows, or reeling in fish with Jack are some of the best memories that I have and it is with a heavy heart that I say good bye to my “Third Grandpa.” I thank his grandkids for sharing him with me. My heart is with all of you as you say goodbye to such an important part of all our lives.
-Jarrett Willet
“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.” – Irish saying
I MET JACK AT SEAWAY GUN CLUB. HE WAS THERE WITH GRANDSON ADAM SORENSON WHO SHOT TRAP ON THE SCHOLASTIC TRAP TEAM . OUR LOVE OF THE GAME OF TRAP AND OTHER CLAY TARGET GAMES EVOLVED. JACK WAS ALWAYS SHOOTING A DIFFERENT GUN AND ENJOYED BREAKING 25 STRAIGHTS WITH AS MANY DIFFERENT GUNS THAT HE OWNED . THE REMINGTON 1100 THAT HE BOUGHT FOR HIS GRAND DAUGHTER KELSEY TO SHOOT TRAP. THE BROWNING CITORI THAT ADAM SHOT, THE WINCHESTER MODEL 21 SXS AND OTHER VARIOUS GUNS. HE SHOT 410 SHEET AND 410 TRAP FROM THE 8 YARD LINE WITH HIS COLLECTION OF WINCHESTER MODEL 42'S PUMP ACTION 410'S. MY FIRST GRAND AMERICAN EXPERIENCE WAS WITH ADAM AND JACK , WE STAYED IN A MOTEL IN SPARTA ILLINOIS IN A EFFICIENCY ROOM THAT WAS OWNED BY SOME PAKISTANIANS . WE KNEW IT HAD LACKED ROOM SERVICE CLEANING ATTENTION BUT WHEN WE FOUND A HALF DOZEN CHICKEN BONES IN A DRAWER , IT CONFIRMED THAT IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE ANYBODY HAD CLEANED.
YOU HAD TO GET TO KNOW JACK FOR A WHILE BEFORE YOU WERE ON THE RECEIVING END OF ONE OF HIS VERBAL GOTT-CHA'S. HE ALWAYS CAUGHT YOU OFF GUARD AND YOU NEVER SEEN IT COMMING, HO HO HO HO HE WOULD GO.
JACK AND I PHEASANT HUNTED THE PAST THREE YEARS TOGETHER, AND THIS PAST YEAR WENT BETWEEN CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS TO NORTH DAKOTA. HE KNEW PHEASANTS AND HOW TO HUNT THEM. JACK WAS TIRELESS AND IT WAS ME THAT HAD TO KEEP UP WITH HIM. HE USED A 16 GAUGE SXS AND HARVESTED HIS LIMIT MANY TIMES. ON OUR WAY TO AND FROM NORTH DAKOTA I GOT TO HEAR THE STORIES OF HIS DEER HUNTING IN THE UPPER PENINSULA, BIRD HUNTING IN NEBRASKA, DEER AND ELK IN COLORADO, QUAIL IN GEORGIA AND MANY OTHER STATES HE HUNTED PLAYING BASEBALL IN THE SERVICE,RACING CARS, MOTORCYCLE TRIPS ON HIS BMW.
A COUPLE OF JACK'S SAYINGS , WANT TO GET AHEAD-- WORK TWO JOBS WHICH HE DID FOR MANY YEARS. BUYING IS EASY , SELLING IS HARD. OH YEA.
JACK WAS FIRST AND FOREMOST A FAMILY MAN, HE KEPT A CLEAN TONGUE. NEVER GOT OVERLY EXCITED. A GENTLEMAN WITH NO VICES, EXCEPT FINE SIDE BY SIDE SHOT GUNS AND GUN DOGS ( BRITNEY'S ). OTHER THAN MY FAMILY JACK AND ONE OTHER PERSON CAME TO SEE ME WHEN I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL WITH MY BRAIN ANEURYSM. HE WAS A GOOD FRIEND AND MENTOR. I WILL SEE AT THE GUN CLUB AND THE ROLLING PARIE SWITCHGRASS FIELDS OF THE DAKOTA'S. SO LONG MY FRIEND WE'LL MEET UP AGAIN FOR ANOTHER HUNT SOME DAY.
MIKE ALLEN
SHELBY MI
I first got to know Jack at Seaway Gun Club. He was quiet, talking to only a few shooters, but I gathered from those conversations, that he was an avid bird hunter.
My "out west" hunting partner, John, and I had been to South Dakota three or four
times, and had decided to go to Montana. Just the two of us made for a long and
tiring trip (we didn't have sense enough to make it anything but a non-stop drive).
We talked about it on the way home from the first Montana trip, that a third person
to help share in the driving would be the sensible thing to do. But who should we
ask, said John. Well, I said, there is a guy at the gun club that goes out west hunting
alot, we could ask him. What is his name? I only know him as "Jack", I said. What
does he do asked John. Haven't got a clue was my answer. But what if he's a drug
dealer, or something, was John's worry. I said, we'll just tell him he can't sell drugs
while he's hunting with us (both John and I were Game Wardens). I told Jack this story
just last year, he chuckled and said "drug dealer?".
Well, we did ask, and Jack accepted our invitation. We hunted together in Montana
several times, Idaho, Wyoming, New Mexico, and South Dakota over the next several
years. Shot skeet, trap, and sporting clays. Jack loved bird hunting, maybe just a
little more than searching for old Winchesters at every gun store we would find.
It was easy making friends with Jack, and his family. Very hospitable, and made you
feel at home at each visit. You couldn't get away without Ellen fixing you something
to eat.
A couple of weeks ago we talked of hunting in Montana this fall. We hadn't made the
trip in a few years. I know that every trip out west for the rest of my days, Jack will be
along, and I'll take a look at a few Winchesters for him.
Mike & Cindy Rademacher
There are no words to fully convey my respect of Jack and the gratitude for his friendship. He always had a quiet, thoughtful way about him that allow us "young" guys to ramble on until we were done and then he's say, "well, OK then". If you didn't pay close attention you'd miss the opportunity to ask him what he was thinking to where he could tell you what reality was. I still have so many questions to ask him. I have so many hunting stories to hear from him. I'd find myself talking to him for an hour when I should have been doing something else. I think it would have been impossible to spend too much time with him. Always a kind smile and a "What you been up to?". He inspired my love of side x side shotguns and bird dogs. A kind, thoughtful man who always made me feel important with just a few words. He was kind in his response even if it opposed your view. I looked up to Jack as a man like what I wanted to become. I could always call him with questions, even if it was from South Dakota with a Winchester Model 12 16 ga. that wouldn't fire. Our shared love of bird dogs, open prairie and side x side shotguns made him more then special to me. I always looked forward to seeing Jack at the gun club. I will miss him more then I can imagine. I'll someday be walking with him in glory and he better be scouting out the best hunting spots.
Many years ago a man stopped his car as I was loading my bird dogs in my 1895 GMC pickup. In the short conversation that followed something about the man made me decide right then that he was someone I would want as a friend. I invited him to follow me to the last spot of the day to hunt it with me.
What followed were years of hunting quail (and the pheasants Jack would wade in the CRP acres for hours to get a shot at) , a couple of prairie dog hunts, an antelope hunt, duck and goose hunting when we could get him to sit still long enough, and many gun shows.
It may sound like our friendship was based solely on guns and dogs. But what it became was a melding of families. If Jack and Ellen didn't show up for their visit in the summer our summer wasn't complete. If they went to Colorado in the fall we could count on a visit on their way home. The last few days of every January meant Jack hunting in the cold and wind and Ellen taking care of us. It also meant Jack sharpening all of my chainsaws.
The best memories? There were some good hunts and great shots, but those are not necessarily the most cherished moments. There was his insistence at Ole's Big Game Bar in Paxton, Nebraska that since they had malt machines they had to be able to make him a chocolate malt, which they did, once he explained to them what malt was and the kind of container they should look for. We probably had the best "aged malt" available because they probably hadn't made a malt in years. There was the .22 rifle in Cabela's that he had examined for what seemed to Jarrett and me like hours before agreeing on the price. "Are you pretty firm on that?" he would innocently ask some clerk who had no idea what was going to happen to him next. Then as they were completing the paperwork Jack discovered the screw was missing from the trigger guard, setting off another round of price haggling and ultimately another $25.00 reduction in the price. We teased Jack that now we knew why he always had a Leatherman tool in his vest, as a missing screw was worth $25.00. From then on anytime Jarrett or I were looking at a gun at a gun show we would ask Jack if he had his Leatherman on him. That would get us the wry smile and a shake of his head. The other gun show memory was trying to find him after we'd been through everything. Invariably he'd find someone to talk to about old Winchesters and we'd lose him.
There are only a few times in our lives when we have someone so special come into them that their loss leaves a hole that cannot be filled. The evening Ellen called with the news Jarrett and I went outside to try to deal with the news. The old blue GMC Jack used when he was here hunting was sitting in the shed. In the last few years he drove it more than we did. As we stood there in the gathering dusk a quail whistled in the windbreak. Others started to answer from several spots around us. We think Jack and Chance and Freeway could hear them too.
Jack, we will always miss you. But you will always be with us.
Mike, Beth and Jarrett Willet
