I’M 66 YEARS OLD. I’VE HAD A GOOD
LIFE. I’VE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO HUNT AND FISH WITH MY DAD WHEN I
WAS YOUNG, THROUGH MIDDLE AGE BY MYSELF, AND WITH YOUNG FRIENDS IN
MY OLD AGE.
I CAN REMEMBER MY FIRST GUN. MY
DAD GAVE IT TO ME WHEN I WAS FOUR YEARS OLD. YOU SAY HOW CAN YOU
REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE FOUR YEARS OLD? VERY SIMPLE. I HAD A VERY
TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE WITH THAT BB GUN. IT WAS A DAISY RED RIDER
REPEATER THAT HELD 500 ROUNDS. IT WAS THE FANCY GRADE WITH AN
IMAGE OF THE RED RIDER AND LITTLE BEAVER, HIS SIDEKICK, BURNED
INTO THE WOOD OF THE STOCK. IT WAS A LEVER ACTION JUST LIKE THE
OLD WINCHESTER MODEL 94 30-30 GENE AUTRY. ROY ROGERS, AND RED
RIDER USED IN THE OLD BLACK AND WHITE MOVIES I PAID 10 CENTS TO
GET IN TO SEE EVERY SATURDAY AFTERNOON.
THAT TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE WAS A
BROKEN FINGER ON MY RIGHT HAND. THE WAY I GOT THAT BROKEN FINGER
SHOWED HOW INEXPERIENCED I WAS WITH FIREARMS AT THE AGE OF FOUR. I
COCKED THE LEVER ON MY RED RIDER SPECIAL AND FELL DOWN IN THE
PRONE POSITION TO SHOOT THAT INDIAN HIDING BEHIND OUR OUTHOUSE.
THE WEEDS IN THE BACK YARD WERE TO HIGH FOR ME TO SEE THAT INDIAN
WITH THE SIGHTS ON MY TRUSTY RIFLE, SO I OPENED THE LEVER AND USED
IT AS A REST TO KEEP MY RIFLE ABOVE THE WEEDS. WHEN I PULLED THE
TRIGGER THAT MADE THE LEVER COME CRASHING AGAINST THE STOCK
TRAPPING MY FINGERS. THE BLOW BROKE MY LITTLE FINGER. I RAN,
CRYING TO THE HOUSE AND SHOWED MY MOTHER MY “OUCH”. SHE ASKED ME
WHAT HAPPENED AND I TOLD HER THAT AN INDIAN HAD SHOT ME. BUT
THAT’S A WHOLE NOTHER STORY FOR A DIFFERENT TIME.
AS I SIT HERE IN MY OFFICE WITH
ALL MY TROPHIES AND MEMORIES OF YEARS OF HUNTING, FISHING. AND
COMPETITION SHOOTING AS WELL AS MY GUN COLLECTION. I WONDER WHAT
WILL HAPPEN TO ALL MY THINGS WHEN I PASS ON ESPECIALLY MY GUN
COLLECTION. I HAVE TWO DAUGHTERS. TWO GRANDDAUGHTERS. AND NOW A
GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER. NO BOYS! AND ME WITH AS FINE A GUN COLLECTION
AS ANYONE COULD EVER WANT. I’VE BEEN PUTTING THIS COLLECTION
TOGETHER FOR FORTY YEARS. WELL, THE ONLY THING I KNOW IS TO FIND A
GOOD HOME FOR IT. SELLING A $40,000 COLLECTION TO ONE PERSON IS
HARD. SO I HAVE TO SELL IT A GUN OR TWO AT A TIME, AND THAT MAKES
IT DOUBLY HARD BECAUSE EVERY GUN IS LIKE A MEMBER OF MY FAMILY.
AFTER ALL SOME OF THEM HAVE BEEN IN MY FAMILY FOR OVER 40 YEARS.
IT’S HARD TO THINK ABOUT SENDING A MEMBER OF YOUR FAMILY OFF WITH
JUST ANYBODY. SO I DECIDED TO FIND SPECIAL PEOPLE THAT I WOULD
APPROVE OF TO ADOPT EACH GUN.
I STARTED BY RUNNING A CLASSIFIED
AD IN THE NEWSPAPER. AS I WOULD GET CALLS TO BUY ON OF MY RIFLES I
WOULD INTERVIEW THE PROSPECTIVE BUYER BEFORE I WOULD SHOW HIM THE
RIFLE. IF HE DID NOT MEET MY APPROVAL. I WOULD ASK HIM TO FORGIVE
A SENTIMENTAL FOOL BUT I JUST COULDN’T PART WITH MY RIFLE. BUT IF
HE SEEMS LIKE SOMEONE I WOULD LET CARE FOR A MEMBER OF MY FAMILY I
WOULD GET THE RIFLE OUT OF THE CASE AND LET HIM SEE IT. I WOULD
WATCH VERY CAREFULLY TO SEE IF HE HANDLES MY CHILD WITH RESPECT.
IF HE WAS ANXIOUS TO LEARN HOW TO FEED AND CARE FOR MY CHILD. IF
HE PASSED ALL THE CRITERIA I HAD SET FOR ADOPTING A FAMILY MEMBER
I WOULD PROCEED TO GIVE HIM INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO FEED AND CARE
FOR MY CHILD.
AFTER A PROPER PERIOD OF
INSTRUCTIONS IF HE SEEMED CAPABLE OF CARING FOR MY SAKO RIFLE I
WOULD TELL HIM THE PRICE. USUALLY BY THIS TIME HE WAS SO ANXIOUS
TO BUY IT I ALWAYS MADE A SALE!
SAKO RIFLES WERE A LARGE PART OF
MY COLLECTION AND I WAS VERY PROUD OF THEM. I HAD 15 SAKO RIFLES
IN MY COLLECTION. SPORTER MODELS AND HEAVY BARRELED VARMINT
MODELS, WHERE AVAILABLE. WHEN I DID SELL ONE OF MY SAKOS I WOULD
STAND AT THE DOOR AND CRY. MY CHILD WAS LEAVING HOME FOREVER. I
WOULD BE HEART BROKEN.
MY WIFE HAPPENED
TO WALK UP BEHIND ME JUST AS ONE MAN WAS LEAVING WITH ONE OF MY
SAKO RIFLES AND SAW ME STANDING THERE AT THE DOOR CRYING. I WAS
HOLDING EIGHT, HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS IN MY HAND. SHE ASKED ME WHY I
WAS CRYING. I TOLD HER IT WAS BECAUSE MY CHILD WAS LEAVING HOME
FOREVER. SHE TOLD ME IF IT MAKES YOU THAT UNHAPPY TO MAKE EIGHT
HUNDRED DOLLARS I’LL MAKE YOU HAPPY. SHE REACHED OVER AND TOOK THE
MONEY OUT OF MY HAND. “THAT SHOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY.” SHE SAID. I
STOOD THERE CRYING HARDER THAN BEFORE. SHE SHOOK HER HEAD AND
WALKED AWAY. AS SHE WALKED AWAY I HEARD HER SAY,” THERE’S NO FOOL
LIKE AN OLD FOOL!”
BY LOREN
MOORE
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