For me, since my dad died when I was five years old and then we got evicted from our rental house because we owed back rent, and wound up moving next-door to the country place he’d grown up in because right before he died he put a down payment on the farm next-door, I wound up growing up in a heavenly rural setting.
But without a father, and my older brother left for college that year.
The good news for me was bad news for his friend, who was also headed off to a distant college, but got in a nearly fatal collision en route and spent the next six months in and out of the hospital. Once he recovered, he started part time at a closer college. Since he had come out to shoot with my brother (who really wasn’t all that interested in such things), as he recovered he decided to come out and shoot once he got my mom‘s permission. Of course by then I was seven or eight years old and happy to accompany him back to the sandpit that used to be a place the local brick companies sourced their material from. It made a fine impromptu shooting range, and over the years, my friend traded many interesting, odd, and fascinating firearms, and would bring them all out to shoot. He didn’t have much money, but he was the type that was willing to enjoy something like a pin-fire revolver, or under-hammer pistol “, for a few years and then trade it for something different to explore.
So over the years of a young kid, I got to see, handle, and fire, a lot of firearms fully grown adults have never even laid eyes on. But of course, most of the shooting was the classics like a Springfield 1903, an Garand, a Mauser 98, a 1911, a Browning High Power, and so on.
When I was a senior in high school, I got my first centerfire gun, which was a Ruger Super Blackhawk. Unfortunately, the day my mom was going to go buy it for me since she had to be 21 to buy a handgun, I had seriously injured my hands the day before, and they were all bandaged up. Nonetheless, I still had to get my prize and bring it home. But what to do about firing it? I’d never fired a 44 Magnum before, and with my hands bandaged up, I was not even sure I could get my fingers around it…!
So I called my friend Joe, and asked if he would be willing to deflower my new acquisition. It was an honor he could not turn down.
I did not fire the gun for a couple weeks, but at least got to vicariously enjoy that classic single action stand-up recoil…
Now, some 50 years later, I live back on the property where I grew up, and made that sand pit into a nice shooting range, complete with a range house with a built in sturdy two-person bench so I could teach my kids how to shoot. The right side of the range house is even enclosed in quarter inch hardware cloth to serve as a giant brass-catcher.
Joe passed away a couple years ago and left a legacy of family members and friends he taught about science and history, and particularly about firearms. I was one of them.
But the other day, I realized my fancy shooting range was missing something on one of the support posts, so I corrected it…
My guess is most of us had some kind of a mentor like that. Be sure to appreciate them if they’re still alive, and if they’re not, try to continue their legacy the best you can….
