The Goose
Member
Last night I was sitting on my front porch having a cocktail and smoking a cigar and I got to thinking about stuff that was long forgotten. I grew up in a small rural town in MA in the 50’s and early 60’s. Recreation consisted largely of hunting and fishing. We lived outside of town and we did not play much sports. A fellow was mostly judged on his ability to hunt and fish or maybe handle dogs. I loved guns. I read everything I could lay my hands on about them. I had a .22 and some old military rifles. I would shoot as much as I could afford and take apart and put together the old military rifles.
Once when I was in the 7th. Grade another kid had an old rifle that he wanted to sell me. It was a Swiss Vetterli, a .41 rimfire with a tubular magazine. After school I went over to his house and bought it for $5. I earned the $5 from selling eggs that came from the chickens that had been my payment for shoveling out old man Hutchinson’s driveways and walkways for an entire winter (a prodigious task). After I cut my deal I shouldered my prize and began the 5 mile walk home. I walked right through the center of town with that rifle over my shoulder. As I passed the junior high school that I attended I noticed Mr. Bramhall, the history teacher’s, car in the lot. I knew Mr. Bramhall liked to shoot and we often talked about guns so I walked into the school and found him in his classroom. He examined my treasure with some delight and we discussed it’s history and design. Then I was off towards home. About a mile from my house some guy pulled up and offered me a ride. He asked if I had been hunting and I told him about my new rifle. He dropped me at our drive.
Another time in the 8th. Grade we had to do a public speaking thing in English class. We had to get up in front of the class and talk about something that we did, like a hobby. Also we could use props to demonstrate. At the time I had an old French single shot bolt action rifle in 8mm Lebel that was stamped 1866. I was stripping and refinishing the stock and making some minor repairs. I disassembled it, wrapped it in a sheet tied with string and brought it in as part of my presentation. In front of the class I opened up the bundle and assembled the rifle, explaining how it functioned and what I was doing to it. I got an A for my presentation. Of course I wish I still had that rifle and I wish that I had not desecrated it so. Oh well.
In today’s world it is hard to believe that the above ever happened. Everything has changed since then and not much for the better. I had completely forgotten about both of those incidents and I am not sure why they surfaced. However, remembering them has triggered a whole flood of memories from a bygone time. Today, even in the most rural areas I doubt one could bring a gun into a school. At the time guns were a natural part of life. Folks were comfortable with them. A kid carrying a gun was likely a good kid going squirrel hunting and not a hoodlum or gang banger. Interesting!
Once when I was in the 7th. Grade another kid had an old rifle that he wanted to sell me. It was a Swiss Vetterli, a .41 rimfire with a tubular magazine. After school I went over to his house and bought it for $5. I earned the $5 from selling eggs that came from the chickens that had been my payment for shoveling out old man Hutchinson’s driveways and walkways for an entire winter (a prodigious task). After I cut my deal I shouldered my prize and began the 5 mile walk home. I walked right through the center of town with that rifle over my shoulder. As I passed the junior high school that I attended I noticed Mr. Bramhall, the history teacher’s, car in the lot. I knew Mr. Bramhall liked to shoot and we often talked about guns so I walked into the school and found him in his classroom. He examined my treasure with some delight and we discussed it’s history and design. Then I was off towards home. About a mile from my house some guy pulled up and offered me a ride. He asked if I had been hunting and I told him about my new rifle. He dropped me at our drive.
Another time in the 8th. Grade we had to do a public speaking thing in English class. We had to get up in front of the class and talk about something that we did, like a hobby. Also we could use props to demonstrate. At the time I had an old French single shot bolt action rifle in 8mm Lebel that was stamped 1866. I was stripping and refinishing the stock and making some minor repairs. I disassembled it, wrapped it in a sheet tied with string and brought it in as part of my presentation. In front of the class I opened up the bundle and assembled the rifle, explaining how it functioned and what I was doing to it. I got an A for my presentation. Of course I wish I still had that rifle and I wish that I had not desecrated it so. Oh well.
In today’s world it is hard to believe that the above ever happened. Everything has changed since then and not much for the better. I had completely forgotten about both of those incidents and I am not sure why they surfaced. However, remembering them has triggered a whole flood of memories from a bygone time. Today, even in the most rural areas I doubt one could bring a gun into a school. At the time guns were a natural part of life. Folks were comfortable with them. A kid carrying a gun was likely a good kid going squirrel hunting and not a hoodlum or gang banger. Interesting!
I can honestly say that while I do love my country, I hate the direction that it has taken on a lot of issues. Dang it, I miss those days! 
