For Better or Worse By Debbie Flanigan G ROWING up in a career Air Force family meant moving to new neighborhoods every three years, from city to city in the United States, and overseas as well. Childhood did not include hunting, fishing or exposure to woods, streams or anything that could make us somewhat dirty. Wildlife experiences consisted of Bambi and a pet rabbit. Stewardship and conservation meant turning off the water while brushing our teeth. Born in the 1950s with a stay-at-home mother, the family ate what she prepared and the menu never included wild game. The books and magazines on our coffee table were without articles extolling virtues of the natural world. Memory can't conjure one person, 36 relative or friend who participated in the hook-and-bullet sports. Flora and fauna teachings were that: all snakes deserved your terror; the forest was a dangerous place; and bug bites could give you diseases. Adult life possessed a soothing sameness still void of outdoor experiences. For a busy, single gal working two jobs and with a mortgage, having every hour carefully assigned a duty kept life moving like a well-oiled machine. Cutting the grass in the small yard was the closest contact to nature and all that time allowed. The routine was within the comforting boundaries of familiarity. Then I met Tim. We shared an avid interest in photography that dominated our conversations over coffee. I learned his job title was "game protector" and he worked for the GAME NEWS