shotgun shells by dumpster, whaddaya do?
Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 8:52 pm
Shotgun shells by the dumpster ... STREET GANGS? DRIVE BY SHOOTINGS? OH MY !!!!
Should I call 911 ???
Below is a true story about some of my relatives (December 2010 occurrence): ....
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Shotgun Shells....
It's funny what can trigger an old memory: a word, a song, a picture. And sometimes something a bit odd will cause my mind to rush back over the years to when I was a little boy, on the Kelly place farm, 14 miles north of Muleshoe.
Tonight, as I carried the trash out to the alley, I found an empty 12 gauge shotgun shell beside the dumpster.
I picked it up and smelled of the the open end. There was still the faint smell of burned gunpowder. I smiled. Oh, what memories that brought back.
We had shotguns, and Dad and Howard hunted with them, (and later Don and me.) There are some funny stories about Howard teaching city slickers to shoot a shotgun. Dad and Howard would pick up the empty shells and bring them back to the house, not leaving them out in the fields or pastures as litter.
We had a big box full of them. I thought they were pretty. There were red ones, yellow and green ones, and sometimes an orange one. I would smell the burned powder, and play with them.
I don't know who came up with the new game we played with them. It might have been Mom. But I remember when I was about five or six Benny would pick out 10 shells of one color, and I would pick out 10 of another.
We had a hard-wood floor in the living room, and each of us would line up our shells or "soldiers" on different sides of the room. Then we would roll a jack-ball back and fourth, trying to knock down the other general's men. I remember the whole family sitting around in chairs watching and cheering us on. Benny had a better aim than I, but it was much fun anyway.
This was before we finally got our first TV from Uncle Harvey. And that opened up another world to us. We spent our evenings watching Rawhide, Cheyenne, Gunsmoke and many other old westerns.
But while I wouldn't have given up our family time watching TV back when it was worth watching, there was something very simple lost at our house as the evening sun sank below the horizon. What warmth there was to a little boy to have the family around, all excited about what he was excited about and sad about what he was sad about. And answering the foolish little questions I had for Dad and Mom.
Empty shotgun shells. I remember what a fun toy they were. I wouldn't give a whole 'nother lifetime for the precious memories I have as a little boy, not only at home, but at church, family reunions, association meetings. What more could I have asked for?
Should I call 911 ???
Below is a true story about some of my relatives (December 2010 occurrence): ....
=======================
Shotgun Shells....
It's funny what can trigger an old memory: a word, a song, a picture. And sometimes something a bit odd will cause my mind to rush back over the years to when I was a little boy, on the Kelly place farm, 14 miles north of Muleshoe.
Tonight, as I carried the trash out to the alley, I found an empty 12 gauge shotgun shell beside the dumpster.
I picked it up and smelled of the the open end. There was still the faint smell of burned gunpowder. I smiled. Oh, what memories that brought back.
We had shotguns, and Dad and Howard hunted with them, (and later Don and me.) There are some funny stories about Howard teaching city slickers to shoot a shotgun. Dad and Howard would pick up the empty shells and bring them back to the house, not leaving them out in the fields or pastures as litter.
We had a big box full of them. I thought they were pretty. There were red ones, yellow and green ones, and sometimes an orange one. I would smell the burned powder, and play with them.
I don't know who came up with the new game we played with them. It might have been Mom. But I remember when I was about five or six Benny would pick out 10 shells of one color, and I would pick out 10 of another.
We had a hard-wood floor in the living room, and each of us would line up our shells or "soldiers" on different sides of the room. Then we would roll a jack-ball back and fourth, trying to knock down the other general's men. I remember the whole family sitting around in chairs watching and cheering us on. Benny had a better aim than I, but it was much fun anyway.
This was before we finally got our first TV from Uncle Harvey. And that opened up another world to us. We spent our evenings watching Rawhide, Cheyenne, Gunsmoke and many other old westerns.
But while I wouldn't have given up our family time watching TV back when it was worth watching, there was something very simple lost at our house as the evening sun sank below the horizon. What warmth there was to a little boy to have the family around, all excited about what he was excited about and sad about what he was sad about. And answering the foolish little questions I had for Dad and Mom.
Empty shotgun shells. I remember what a fun toy they were. I wouldn't give a whole 'nother lifetime for the precious memories I have as a little boy, not only at home, but at church, family reunions, association meetings. What more could I have asked for?
