Isn't it funny how a scent, aroma or fragrance can bring back memories?....
I had tired of watching everyone on TV wrangling about the Florida mess, and took myself down to what the family calls, "Daddy's Store", the walk in closet where I keep most things pertaining to my hobbies. Grabbing the cleaning supplies and a handful of rods, I broke out the bird and deer 870s for a lick and promise bbl cleaning. They both had been fired recently and needed but a bore scrub and lube.
And, as the rather large bottle of #9 was opened,the smell brought a long ago memory.
I was maybe 5 or 6,watching Pop run a cleaning rod through the bbls of his Savage O/U, a shotgun that had more time in a B-24 than some pilots. Pop sat at the dining room table,covered with a thick layer of newspaper, and cleaned his guns as my brother and I watched. Mom called from the kitchen to make sure he wasn't "making a mess" and then aksed Pop to clean her 22, as long as he had the stuff out. Pop told me to fetch it up, he wasn't long out of Walter Reed again and had new stitches, I think. I went to the hall closet and carefully brought the old bolt action to my father, pointing straight up and with my hands well away from the trigger guard. Mom had been runner up with that old Marlin in 1943 for the Md smallbore Championship.
And as Pop cleaned, brother and I watched, and got a lesson or two we didn't realize...
Guns are tools, and if we take care of our tools, they'll work when we need them to.
And this quiet time was a good part of life, not as exciting as crouching in the depths of a goose blind while Pop made that 12 ga need cleaning,and watching those Canadas fold and drop,but one had to follow the other.
Son came into the room to pick up a software disc,and eyed me as I cleaned those shotguns. He's not fond of shotguns, but likes 22s and handguns. He shot my GM for the first time when he was 9.
"Need any help, Dad"?
"No thanks, what are you doing?".
"Mom wants to install this on the upstairs computer".
"OK"....
As he left I considered the changes that have occurred since WWII about families and guns.
A scene like the one I remembered would revulse a lot of folks now. A scarred, possibly insane combat vet fondling his guns in front of his wife and children is how the media would put it, and maybe some of my neighbors.Social Services would get called, and maybe the cops. My elected officials( who I didn't vote for,mostly ) might call for an investigation,my neighborhood association might want to pass a "Covenant" limiting the number of guns and ammo one can have,like they do the colors we can paint our doors and trim. And so on.
So when did fine folks like Pop become an enemy to the common good,and the peace of the community?
It must have been around the time that politicians, with many armed bodyguards, decided that safety was their right, not ours. That a woman, raped and dead in an alley, was more acceptable than that same woman explaining how a would be rapist was full of bullets.
About the time criminals couldn't be made to register their tools of crime,but if law abiding citizens didn't, they were criminals.
About the time that increasing urbanization led to less people using firearms for hunting, and MORE people only seeing firearms in use on TV.
And I've my own honorable scars,not as bad as Pop's,earned in places and times I hope to God my kids never have to experience their like first hand.
Enough revery, the shotguns are clean, and I put the usual two drops of Break Free on the action bars and work it in by cycling the action a few times. As I put the 870s away, I was reminded of ancient words spoken by Leonidas the Spartan King,after an invading army of Persians told him that he and his 300 Spartans were free to go if they just laid down their arms.
Said Leonidas, "Molon Labe","Come and take them". Leonidas and most of the Spartans died shortly thereafter, but Greece remained Greek.
If that's what it takes....
I had tired of watching everyone on TV wrangling about the Florida mess, and took myself down to what the family calls, "Daddy's Store", the walk in closet where I keep most things pertaining to my hobbies. Grabbing the cleaning supplies and a handful of rods, I broke out the bird and deer 870s for a lick and promise bbl cleaning. They both had been fired recently and needed but a bore scrub and lube.
And, as the rather large bottle of #9 was opened,the smell brought a long ago memory.
I was maybe 5 or 6,watching Pop run a cleaning rod through the bbls of his Savage O/U, a shotgun that had more time in a B-24 than some pilots. Pop sat at the dining room table,covered with a thick layer of newspaper, and cleaned his guns as my brother and I watched. Mom called from the kitchen to make sure he wasn't "making a mess" and then aksed Pop to clean her 22, as long as he had the stuff out. Pop told me to fetch it up, he wasn't long out of Walter Reed again and had new stitches, I think. I went to the hall closet and carefully brought the old bolt action to my father, pointing straight up and with my hands well away from the trigger guard. Mom had been runner up with that old Marlin in 1943 for the Md smallbore Championship.
And as Pop cleaned, brother and I watched, and got a lesson or two we didn't realize...
Guns are tools, and if we take care of our tools, they'll work when we need them to.
And this quiet time was a good part of life, not as exciting as crouching in the depths of a goose blind while Pop made that 12 ga need cleaning,and watching those Canadas fold and drop,but one had to follow the other.
Son came into the room to pick up a software disc,and eyed me as I cleaned those shotguns. He's not fond of shotguns, but likes 22s and handguns. He shot my GM for the first time when he was 9.
"Need any help, Dad"?
"No thanks, what are you doing?".
"Mom wants to install this on the upstairs computer".
"OK"....
As he left I considered the changes that have occurred since WWII about families and guns.
A scene like the one I remembered would revulse a lot of folks now. A scarred, possibly insane combat vet fondling his guns in front of his wife and children is how the media would put it, and maybe some of my neighbors.Social Services would get called, and maybe the cops. My elected officials( who I didn't vote for,mostly ) might call for an investigation,my neighborhood association might want to pass a "Covenant" limiting the number of guns and ammo one can have,like they do the colors we can paint our doors and trim. And so on.
So when did fine folks like Pop become an enemy to the common good,and the peace of the community?
It must have been around the time that politicians, with many armed bodyguards, decided that safety was their right, not ours. That a woman, raped and dead in an alley, was more acceptable than that same woman explaining how a would be rapist was full of bullets.
About the time criminals couldn't be made to register their tools of crime,but if law abiding citizens didn't, they were criminals.
About the time that increasing urbanization led to less people using firearms for hunting, and MORE people only seeing firearms in use on TV.
And I've my own honorable scars,not as bad as Pop's,earned in places and times I hope to God my kids never have to experience their like first hand.
Enough revery, the shotguns are clean, and I put the usual two drops of Break Free on the action bars and work it in by cycling the action a few times. As I put the 870s away, I was reminded of ancient words spoken by Leonidas the Spartan King,after an invading army of Persians told him that he and his 300 Spartans were free to go if they just laid down their arms.
Said Leonidas, "Molon Labe","Come and take them". Leonidas and most of the Spartans died shortly thereafter, but Greece remained Greek.
If that's what it takes....
