L Ross
Well-Known Member
Reading about that Winchester in the rifles thread brought to mind the concept of owning one gun as a tool concept. I'm not sure, but I am willing to hazard a guess, that back when my Dad, (born in 1927), was a lad and living on a dairy/subsistence farm, folks had neither the time nor the disposable income to dally around playing with adult toys. Constant, unending work, (sorta like Bret's life), meant they had little time for recreation. The genuine experiences that got hashed and rehashed between Fathers and sons, brothers and friends, were of the rare good times when they got a chance to have fun. For some, having fun was hunting and fishing.
The time Dad was sent down to bring the cows home and the crick was full of black ducks was recalled over the years because of its rarity. Dad ran all the way home to grab his Dad's Stevens 12ga. hammer pump. The one with a drop of green paint on the butt stock from when Grandpa repainted the inside of the gun cabinet. That old Stevens and a Remington single shot .22 with the "Bee hive bolt", were the farm guns for a long long time. There were no deer, none. In 1941 a local farmer found a deer track in the soft earth while pullin' weeds and it was the talk of the neighborhood.
When I think about most of the "gun writers" of that era that fascinated my Dad, they were unusually wealthy men with professions that gave them time for recreation and the income to play. Elmer Keith was an exception for much of his early life. But think about the "gun nuts" we all read about. The experimenters, the target shooters, the traveling hunters, time and money.
Along comes the post war generation, and suddenly time and money become more prevalent. We have time to fantasize about our future genuine experiences. In the interim we buy stuff. Guns we hope to hunt with some day, gear we want to use. We shoot up more ammo than our folks ever dreamt existed out side of the military. My Dad's older brother was 7 years older and a big influence on my Dad. My Uncle Elmer came home having survived the Battle of the Bulge and was the first "gun nut" of note in my young life. He, reloaded! Not only that, he melted lead down on a Coleman camp stove and poured it into moulds and made bullets! Bullets, home made bullets! He tried putting air rifle shot in the nose of some pointy .30 caliber bullet and fantasized about hunting deer with a rifle. Where I grew up, about 20 miles west of that 1941 deer track, we now saw 80 deer on Opening Day of 1966, and were strictly limited to hunting with shotguns. Rifles were exotic, long range creatures that were really really loud and caused leaves to roll 20 feet out from the muzzle at the range. Uncle Elmer got my Dad infected with the gun bug, but Dad never had Elmer's income. Elmer was a Union finish carpenter who would travel to jobs, and get a room in a rooming house in cities like, (gasp), Milwaukee! In his free time he would buy guns and reload and think about going "Out West" and have a genuine experience. My Dad always lagged behind, but by God I got him "Out West" and both antelope and Elks hunts.
Well today, we have it even better, or worse maybe. Sue and I were just talking the other day about all the stuff I have. She said, and I'll paraphrase, Have you noticed when you can't actually go fishing or do whatever you are currently hot to do, you go buy stuff related to that current desire?
Boy oh boy, did that hit the nail between the eyes. How much of the stuff I have accrued is the detritus of fantasies I hold about future genuine experiences. Compared to my Grandpa, I am Jack O'Connor, Elmer Keith, Franklin Mann, H.M.Pope, Bill Dance, Louie Spray, hell even Bat Masterson. I have run around as an adult from one adventure to another and so have a lot of you. We chase genuine experiences with the fervor of a drug addict seeking the next hit.
Would we be satisfied having only a twenny two, a 12 ga. pump, and maybe a deer rifle? Hell no, and we shouldn't be. Do we need to have one ammo that's compatible with our rifle and God forbid, a pistol? Hell no! Let's relish our freedom and lives of excess. He who dies with the most toys wins! You may now return to your regularly scheduled station and wonder why you wasted 3 minutes reading my drivel.
The time Dad was sent down to bring the cows home and the crick was full of black ducks was recalled over the years because of its rarity. Dad ran all the way home to grab his Dad's Stevens 12ga. hammer pump. The one with a drop of green paint on the butt stock from when Grandpa repainted the inside of the gun cabinet. That old Stevens and a Remington single shot .22 with the "Bee hive bolt", were the farm guns for a long long time. There were no deer, none. In 1941 a local farmer found a deer track in the soft earth while pullin' weeds and it was the talk of the neighborhood.
When I think about most of the "gun writers" of that era that fascinated my Dad, they were unusually wealthy men with professions that gave them time for recreation and the income to play. Elmer Keith was an exception for much of his early life. But think about the "gun nuts" we all read about. The experimenters, the target shooters, the traveling hunters, time and money.
Along comes the post war generation, and suddenly time and money become more prevalent. We have time to fantasize about our future genuine experiences. In the interim we buy stuff. Guns we hope to hunt with some day, gear we want to use. We shoot up more ammo than our folks ever dreamt existed out side of the military. My Dad's older brother was 7 years older and a big influence on my Dad. My Uncle Elmer came home having survived the Battle of the Bulge and was the first "gun nut" of note in my young life. He, reloaded! Not only that, he melted lead down on a Coleman camp stove and poured it into moulds and made bullets! Bullets, home made bullets! He tried putting air rifle shot in the nose of some pointy .30 caliber bullet and fantasized about hunting deer with a rifle. Where I grew up, about 20 miles west of that 1941 deer track, we now saw 80 deer on Opening Day of 1966, and were strictly limited to hunting with shotguns. Rifles were exotic, long range creatures that were really really loud and caused leaves to roll 20 feet out from the muzzle at the range. Uncle Elmer got my Dad infected with the gun bug, but Dad never had Elmer's income. Elmer was a Union finish carpenter who would travel to jobs, and get a room in a rooming house in cities like, (gasp), Milwaukee! In his free time he would buy guns and reload and think about going "Out West" and have a genuine experience. My Dad always lagged behind, but by God I got him "Out West" and both antelope and Elks hunts.
Well today, we have it even better, or worse maybe. Sue and I were just talking the other day about all the stuff I have. She said, and I'll paraphrase, Have you noticed when you can't actually go fishing or do whatever you are currently hot to do, you go buy stuff related to that current desire?
Boy oh boy, did that hit the nail between the eyes. How much of the stuff I have accrued is the detritus of fantasies I hold about future genuine experiences. Compared to my Grandpa, I am Jack O'Connor, Elmer Keith, Franklin Mann, H.M.Pope, Bill Dance, Louie Spray, hell even Bat Masterson. I have run around as an adult from one adventure to another and so have a lot of you. We chase genuine experiences with the fervor of a drug addict seeking the next hit.
Would we be satisfied having only a twenny two, a 12 ga. pump, and maybe a deer rifle? Hell no, and we shouldn't be. Do we need to have one ammo that's compatible with our rifle and God forbid, a pistol? Hell no! Let's relish our freedom and lives of excess. He who dies with the most toys wins! You may now return to your regularly scheduled station and wonder why you wasted 3 minutes reading my drivel.
