Dad & Me

Sept. 1973

This is me and Dad on my first Navy leave, after boot camp. Despite the fact that he wasn't crazy about my enlistment - he was drafted during Korea, after all - he was proud of me.

The whole misbegotten Good Humor Man uniform issued by the Navy is a sad chapter, best left for another time...

Dad

would have been 83 today. I wish I could call him & talk for awhile.

My First Rifle (for .22 Week)

In 1950 my parents married, and my dad purchased a Stevens .22 rifle. It was a single-shot, bolt-action piece with a rear sight adjustable for elevation, but not windage. Those rifles sold for around $13.00 at the time, if my research is accurate. Unfortunately, he's gone now, so I can't ask him. (I really wish I could. Dang it - got some dust in my eyes.)

The bolt had a knob on the back which had to be pulled back to cock the firing pin. Then and only then could you pull the trigger & fire the rifle. Then you opened the bolt again, which ejected the empty casing. And as Duke mentions in comments (below), if you failed to pull the knob all the way back, it would slam forward and fire the round.

When I turned six in 1961, we went out to the lot behind my grandpa's barn, and he set soup cans on three wooden fence posts. We talked about safe handling, which involved his version of what we know now as The Four Rules*. Handing me the rifle, he said, "If you can knock any of those off, you can keep shooting." I got the third one, and was able to exhale again. With a grin that likely stretched ear-to-ear, I accepted another small handful of cartridges, and walked over to set the cans back up.

He and I would drive to land owned by his friends, and take turns shooting at targets we'd set up, or something we'd find when we got there. One instance that comes to mind was the summer before I graduated from high school. There was a brown leaf on an otherwise green tree, across a shallow valley; we took turns shooting at the base of the leaf until one of us was able to clip it from the branch. I don't remember which of us finally hit that twig; I only remember how much fun we had.

About ten years ago, my oldest daughter had the chance to shoot the rifle, and she liked it as much as I did. Her grin was just as big as mine, too. That old rifle's gone now (a whole 'nother story, there) but the memories remain.

It says "Springfield", but I swear the old Stevens (made by Savage) looked just the same.

* The Four Rules:

1. All guns are always loaded.
2. Never let the muzzle cover anything you are not willing to destroy.
3. Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target.
4. Be sure of your target and what is beyond it.

Dad's remembrance ceremony was, as he requested, a happy time. He had selected the songs and Bible passages which were used, and there was a parade of people who remember him fondly and couldn't wait to tell us all about how much he meant to them.

He was a gentle man who liked to quote Will Rogers' line, "There aren't any strangers; only friends I haven't met yet." He touched a lot of lives, as we all do, and today was the day for those folks to let us know about it.

The American Legion provided a full military ceremony, with a 12-gun salute. Dad would have been so proud, and humbled at the same time.

Thank you all for your kind words of support; they've meant a lot. I will resume blogging in a few days, but family comes first.

Away Down South

Travel to Missouri went very well, yesterday, with all flights either on-time or ahead of schedule. There wasn't even much traffic on the interstate this morning.

I'm at my mom's in southwest Missouri, where it's sunny, very windy and 85 degrees. The weatherman is calling for t-storms tomorrow, and temps in the 90-degrees range. That's hard for an Alaskan to take - Friday was our warmest day of the year, so far, with a high of 57. 90 is pushing it, comfort-wise.

Mom's church is hosting the party ... yes, I said party ... for my dad on Tuesday. As Christians, we do not mourn the way some might: death is an escape from our temporary physical existence, and the Bible teaches that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. My dad is in Heaven, seeing the face of God, and the last thing he'd want is for anyone to sit around weeping and wailing because he's made it there. So we're going to celebrate!

Mom, my sister and I have been looking through photographs today, trying to find a fair assortment of milestones from his life which the church will turn into a slideshow for Tuesday. My sister is pulling together some memorabilia for a small display at the fellowship hall: his books of poetry, Army insignia, his American Legion cap ... things like that. The Legion is going to do a very brief but proper military send-off for him, and then we'll all sit down to a big luncheon in his honor.

Mom's holding up pretty well, and I'm here for her. I'm taking her out for nice lunch tomorrow, and then we'll just visit for a few days.

Did I mention it's too hot, here? Oh, right ... just making sure. Anyway, I spent some time talking to my bride (it will be 31 years, this month) and wishing we could be together for Mother's Day. Sometimes, life interrupts your plans with things which are more important. Happens to us all, all the time.

It's how we deal with those interruptions that defines us. Y'all be kind to each other, hear?

Shooting with Dad

My dad was the guy who taught me to ride a bike, and more importantly, he taught me how to handle and properly use a firearm. He was an Army marksman who missed becoming a sniper by only a couple of points on the qualifying test.

He last visited Alaska one year ago this month. As I posted at the time, I took him to the range. He was all but unable to use the .38 Spcl snubbie due to arthritis which kept him from pulling the double-action trigger. He did finally fire the thing, but couldn't control it.

But ...

But that man, who was 81 years old at the time, picked up my 1911 and - not having touched a pistol in well over 20 years - showed me how it's done. I had been practicing and was achieving consistent 2 1/2" groups at 7 yards.

He put 9 shots in 1 1/2", before running through another 25 rounds. Looked at me and grinned, he did, and said, "That was fun." And grinned even bigger.

That was my dad.

Dad

My father passed away at 10:20pm Central time. I'll be flying to Missouri on Saturday to be with my mom & sister for a few days.

Thank you all for your prayers and words of encouragement. I know that, right now, my dad is partying in Heaven, and seeing Jesus face-to-face.

I'll see him again, one of these days. In the meantime, blogging will be suspended for a few days, of course.

Happy Birthday, Dad

My father is 82 today. Since we don't know whether he'll have another one, this one's kind of a big deal. And to top it off, he's having a really good, pain-free day.

Happy birthday, Dad. We love you.