A Fine Thanksgiving!
Posted: Sat, 03 Oct 2009 13:03:33
One Fine Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving Day 1967 was nothing special at first. There were several inches of new snow on the ground from the night before and it was cold. As I slowly walked through the woods near the house I was mentally kicking myself in the butt for even coming out that morning. I’d been out for a couple of hours and by then my hands and feet were numb and holding onto my rifle was becoming more of a chore than a pleasure. In my mind I swore I had frostbite but didn’t make any attempt to go to the house. Topping off my misery from the cold was the fact that all wildlife seemed to know it was a holiday and had headed for parts unknown. I was discouraged but plodded on for another hour with the same result. Finally I got it through my thick skull that I was freezing, there was no game of any kind to shoot, and I was getting hungry. I walked out to the road and stomped the snow off my boots and started the hike home.
I arrived at the house and opened the back door and let myself into the kitchen. Mom was getting everything ready for dinner and the old man was sitting reading the paper and drinking coffee like he always did. Looking up he asked “No luck?”
Giving me a little smirk to try and get a rise out of me. The competition in our home was always tight between me, dad and my older brother. Getting skunked gave them reason to razz me up until they had a bad day out then it was their turn to get it from me. It didn’t matter if it was hunting or fishing, the razz rule was always in effect. While I idly talked with my parents I took my gear off and set it near the radiator to dry. Just as I was heading up the stairs to clean my gun, My Dad told me to wait a minute and to come back. Confused and wondering if I had got caught doing something that I had forgotten about I came back into the kitchen and got ready to face the music. I wasn’t exactly an angel as a kid and had good reason to think I was caught, but couldn’t think of anything I had done lately so my confusion was justified. I sat in my usual chair at the table and looked to my mom for a possible clue but she was poker faced and not giving up any clues. Dad didn’t say a word but got up from the table and went into his bedroom for a couple minutes. He came back out carrying the best looking pump shotgun I had ever seen. As he took his seat, he asked me what I thought about it. “Very nice” I said and crossed the kitchen to get a better look. The old man was looking the gun over and when he went to cycle the pump, it didn’t work. I chuckled a little when he looked at me with a blank expression and said as he handed the gun to me. “Here you go Mr. Smartass let’s see if you can do it” Noticing the small lever on the bottom of the receiver I promptly pushed it and to my relief the pump racked down and up. I took aim at an imaginary duck and dry fired to complete the thought. Hefting the gun once more before I handed it back I noticed dad giving me one of his looks of approval as he took the gun and stood it next to him at the kitchen table. What came next was one of the true surprises of my life that I will always remember. Dad looked me in the eye and asked me “so you think it’s pretty good huh?” “Real good” I replied. He picked the shotgun up and looked it over and with not so much as a hint of what was to come handed it to me saying It’s yours” I nearly fell down I was so excited and surprised. Laughing, dad told me that I had earned it a year early from being so good with the pump BB gun I had gotten for my 10th birthday. It was indeed a fine and proud day for me and the kind of moment I would wish that all could experience at least once in their lives.
Thanksgiving Day 1967 was nothing special at first. There were several inches of new snow on the ground from the night before and it was cold. As I slowly walked through the woods near the house I was mentally kicking myself in the butt for even coming out that morning. I’d been out for a couple of hours and by then my hands and feet were numb and holding onto my rifle was becoming more of a chore than a pleasure. In my mind I swore I had frostbite but didn’t make any attempt to go to the house. Topping off my misery from the cold was the fact that all wildlife seemed to know it was a holiday and had headed for parts unknown. I was discouraged but plodded on for another hour with the same result. Finally I got it through my thick skull that I was freezing, there was no game of any kind to shoot, and I was getting hungry. I walked out to the road and stomped the snow off my boots and started the hike home.
I arrived at the house and opened the back door and let myself into the kitchen. Mom was getting everything ready for dinner and the old man was sitting reading the paper and drinking coffee like he always did. Looking up he asked “No luck?”
Giving me a little smirk to try and get a rise out of me. The competition in our home was always tight between me, dad and my older brother. Getting skunked gave them reason to razz me up until they had a bad day out then it was their turn to get it from me. It didn’t matter if it was hunting or fishing, the razz rule was always in effect. While I idly talked with my parents I took my gear off and set it near the radiator to dry. Just as I was heading up the stairs to clean my gun, My Dad told me to wait a minute and to come back. Confused and wondering if I had got caught doing something that I had forgotten about I came back into the kitchen and got ready to face the music. I wasn’t exactly an angel as a kid and had good reason to think I was caught, but couldn’t think of anything I had done lately so my confusion was justified. I sat in my usual chair at the table and looked to my mom for a possible clue but she was poker faced and not giving up any clues. Dad didn’t say a word but got up from the table and went into his bedroom for a couple minutes. He came back out carrying the best looking pump shotgun I had ever seen. As he took his seat, he asked me what I thought about it. “Very nice” I said and crossed the kitchen to get a better look. The old man was looking the gun over and when he went to cycle the pump, it didn’t work. I chuckled a little when he looked at me with a blank expression and said as he handed the gun to me. “Here you go Mr. Smartass let’s see if you can do it” Noticing the small lever on the bottom of the receiver I promptly pushed it and to my relief the pump racked down and up. I took aim at an imaginary duck and dry fired to complete the thought. Hefting the gun once more before I handed it back I noticed dad giving me one of his looks of approval as he took the gun and stood it next to him at the kitchen table. What came next was one of the true surprises of my life that I will always remember. Dad looked me in the eye and asked me “so you think it’s pretty good huh?” “Real good” I replied. He picked the shotgun up and looked it over and with not so much as a hint of what was to come handed it to me saying It’s yours” I nearly fell down I was so excited and surprised. Laughing, dad told me that I had earned it a year early from being so good with the pump BB gun I had gotten for my 10th birthday. It was indeed a fine and proud day for me and the kind of moment I would wish that all could experience at least once in their lives.
