Saturday, December 06, 2008

Home Again for the Holidays

Home Again for the Holidays
There is some truth to the saying, “You can never go home again.” Since change is a part of every life, home is not the same when you go back. But you can go home again, with wonderful reminiscences.
No, I did not grow up in the day when you got just an apple and some nuts for Christmas. Yes, we had fruit and candy in a stocking, but there were always presents and and usually at least one special toy that myself or my brother Billy were excited about. I recall us getting a Creepy Crawler Maker, pogo sticks, and Billy getting a dancing monkey named Clancy.
Guns were always Christmas favorites for me. I remember Mama and Papa Courington getting me a really nice set of metal cap pistols with holsters and all, just like the kind Hoss had on Bonanza. I had admired them in the window of Wilson Beard’s grocery story for some time. By the time I got them, my anticipation was built to a fever pitch. Perhaps my favorite gun was a big bazooka called a “Big Blast.” Dad had to go to Birmingham for that one. You pumped it up and it did indeed have a “Big Blast” as it shot a ball of air several feet away. You could set up a paper cup or something and knock it over if you were a good enough shot.
I remember when I was 11 or 12 and wanted a real gun. I had made sure that Mom and Dad knew that I really wanted one. I don’t remember anyone saying, “You’ll shoot your eye out,” but I do recall that there was no small amount of discussion as to whether I should have one. I kept looking at the packages under the tree and hoping. I really didn’t think I was getting it. There was one box that was heavy enough, but not nearly long enough. Little did I know that rifles come in two pieces. Excited was not the word when I opened it and found that I had not only gotten a gun, but a really nice one, a Remington 22 semi-automatic with a handsome wooden stock.
Yes, I still have it and I think I’ll get it out and shoot some next week, and reminisce some more about how much fun it was to go to the dump with Dad and shoot it. I would also get to shoot the WW I Colt 45 that his uncle Bill left him. I didn’t want to shoot it much- too much recoil(and I think that my be what damaged my hearing in one ear.)
No, I have never shot anyone or even come close, but Billy did almost shoot me once. We went squirrel hunting with Papa Studdard in Winston County. I used my Remington and Billy used an old single shot that belonged to Papa Courington. As we were walking along(with a bit of snow on the ground in the shady spots,) I heard that rifle’s sharp, loud pop right by me- so much for the theory that guns don’t go off accidentally. He was in front of me, holding it over his shoulder pointing back, but luckily I was a little to the right. Hmmm- seems like it always pays off to stay a little to the right.
I guess that is enough cogitating for now, but remember, in the musings of the mind, you can always go home again for the holidays.

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