Had to share this..It is on another forum I read...This is one of the best threads I have ever read.
The weight of History (inherited guns)
Well, that's it, dad's gone.
It was all I could think as I sat there looking at the old (c1968) Remington 552 Speedmaster sitting on my workbench. It was dad's favorite "rabbit" gun and the one that was never going to leave his possession while he was on this earth. It was also the first real firearm I was ever allowed to handle, the one I learned all the basics on, the one that made me the terror of the rats at the local dump (where we used to earn an entire nickle for every tail we brought back!).
Sadly, when dad's emphysema really took hold I think the rifle was also a reminder of his younger and more vigorous "outdoor" days. Wistful recollections turned from bittersweet to simply bitter as his body failed him and he stuffed the wood and steel yardstick of his youth into the back of a closet and did his best to forget it.
When we uncovered it during the cleanup I pulled it from the closet to find that time had taken it's toll. The rifle looked bad enough then, but now the excellent lighting in my workshop revealed all. The rifle was bone dry and coated with dust and cobwebs. Wiping off the surface grime revealed a diseased looking finish with a peppering of rust spots all over the metal. The wood had also sprouted a dusting of mold. Still, a patch run through the bore revealed a bright shine so, I thought, maybe there was hope.
The cleanup was tedious and frustrating. Every part disassembled revealed more rust spots and a ton of rock-hard, dried up, lube and old powder fouling but I could hear dad's voice saying "well you started the job, you need to finish it". A lot of time was spent with patches, brushes, solvents, oil, and steel wool until the ugly warts of rust had been reduced to mere surface blemishes. The wood was oiled and rubbed until the manufacturer would have been proud.
Re-assembly was as satisfying as the dis-assembly had been frustrating with the parts clicking together precisely and the mechanical actions working smoothly. I stood up to un-kink my back, crabbed by the hours bent over the workbench, and appreciated the results of my labor. The metal had a deep glow interspersed with a mottling that gave the gun a pleasing appearance of honest use. The wood caught the light with a warm-honey glow, and the smell of clean metal and gunoil were still in the air. I think dad and I were both smiling at a job well done.
The next morning was clear and very cold as I tramped into the woods with the restored Remington and a box of .22LR shells. As I "broke trail" through the deeper snow I could see my dad, all those years ago, dressed in his red and black hunting jacket and the fur cap with the ear flaps tied up. He was stepping carefully, his big boots creating a nearly heel-to-toe trail through the snow that my 10 year old feet could easily follow. I'd been given the awesome responsibility of actually carrying the gun (not just the box of shells) and he spent the walk constantly reminding me to keep the the gun pointed in a safe direction and issuing sharp warnings that "I'd better keep the barrel out of the damned snow or he'd tan my hide". I smiled as I visualized what my serious little-child face must have looked like as I labored mightily to simultaneously keep up the pace and carry the weight of responsibility along with the weight of the gun.
Finally I arrived at the chosen location and set up a swinging target. Then I backed up a fair distance, loaded the gun, and prepared to fire.
Suddenly my trigger finger was paralyzed by a flood of internal doubt.
Thoughts clashed in my head "What if shooting this gun wasn't as cool as I remembered?", "What if the gun was really a worn out piece of scrap metal?" Did I want to risk shattering the beautiful childhood memories all around me?
CRACK!...... "TING"
I was laughing...with relief? with joy? Yes all that and more as the little metal spinner twirled. The old Remington was still "cool", it was still accurate, and after it's long slumber it was ready to play.
CRACK!...... "TING"
CRACK!...... "TING"
CRACK!...... "TING"
CRACK!...... OOPS, a miss. And there was dad's ghost, beaming but trying to look serious as he gently chided me on "wasting ammo" and once again walked me through the steps of breathing and trigger control.
150 rounds later I walked out of the woods side by side with the spirit of my father. When I got to my parked Jeep I looked back and in my mind I could see him older, but still healthy, still dressed in that ratty old hunting jacket, heavy canvas pants and huge rubber boots sniffing the clean forest air and smiling. It was like he was saying "You go on boy, I'm gonna walk in the woods for a while".
So I pulled out, me heading my way, him heading his, but I could almost hear his gruff last words "you make sure you clean that damned gun good or I'll tan your hide!"
Dedicated to Frank George Hawley 1940-2010
__________________ LUKE 22:36 -and he that has no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one. NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT
Good story. I have been shooting with my children since they were all very young. I hope they some good memories like that one years from now when they hold some of my old guns.
__________________ USAF SSgt 80-86 IN GOD WE TRUST NRA MEMBER
Good story. I have been shooting with my children since they were all very young. I hope they some good memories like that one years from now when they hold some of my old guns.
I have been shooting with my son (he will be 8 in April) for a couple of years now. I feel the same way. Can never teach gun safety too early and the memories are priceless.
__________________ LUKE 22:36 -and he that has no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one. NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT
I taught my youngest at age 3 about bb guns. As he got older, his responsibilties grew. Then he got into paint ball. He grew out of that, and I helped him with .22. He's now 20, going on 21, and wants to get his CCW when he turns 21 in Aug. He has bought all his own guns with money working on the farm. He has 3 .22's, 4 shotguns, a AK, a SKS, and he recently bought a Savage bolt action in 30.06. He's a great kid, and we love him dearly. He's now in college and working on his associates degree in IT, then on to a Bachelors degree.He also is thinking about getting his masters and wants to teach here in our local highschool. To be young and full of dreams and hopes!! And by the way, NICE STORY!!
Thank you for sharing that story, it really brought the memories flooding back, of other days long ago. You brought my Dad's face into my mind and heart, at a time When I really needed it. The mists of the past swirled about, as I read through, and smiled at the memories. This just really made my day! Thank you so much.
No buyers guide anywhere can place a value on a gun left to you by your dad. It's as if the gun could talk of memories only you and he could understand. Tell your son of this gun and what it means to you. Take it with you, when hunting with your son.Time spent with him ,and that gun, will make it priceless. It did with me.
Alan Thank You for posting a story that brings back memorys of times spent with our Fathers shooting and hunting.
I needed my eye's washed out a little bit.
I can only pray that my children & grand children.
Will look back someday, and think the same of me.
__________________
"If we ever forget we are one nation under God, then we will be a nation gone under." Ronald Reagan
A Man WITH a gun is a CITIZEN, a Man WITHOUT a gun is a SUBJECT
No buyers guide anywhere can place a value on a gun left to you by your dad. It's as if the gun could talk of memories only you and he could understand. Tell your son of this gun and what it means to you. Take it with you, when hunting with your son.Time spent with him ,and that gun, will make it priceless. It did with me.
Same here. Thanks for the memories. I have to get a Kleenex, now.
__________________ Criminals cheer for infringement of the Second Amendment. AR10 MBR GLOCK CCW
Not that I wish it was my story, as it was not. As I stated in the first post, it was from another forum by a member there. The story struck a cord with me because I too have a 552 Remington Speedmaster that was given to me by my father around 1977 and the memories are great. He had a stroke a couple of years before and could not do what he used to do, So the hunting times were few, but cherished. What the OP in the thread I quoted did was mirror the images I always wanted with my father, but made me thankful for the ones I have and am still trying to make.
His eyesight is not what it used to be and he no longer shoots. But I can still see that gleam in his eye when he sees my son shoot with me. Hearing myself say the same things to my son that he used to say to me in teaching is haunting yet soothing at the same time. We goota get back in the woods soon.
__________________ LUKE 22:36 -and he that has no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one. NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT
When I look at the shell of the man I call Dad, I can only see a man in dungarees and flannel. High boots, and a skinner on his belt I now possess. A rugged, unshaven man. Master of all that is outdoors. A Magician with a skinning knife, wielded a hand axe like a surgeons tool !! No matter what went wrong with any gear belonging to anyone in our deer camp, my Dad could fix it !! Lantern, stoves, etc, my Dad could sit down and have it running in no time !! I was so proud !! I have become THAT person in honor of my Dad !! The first to gather wood, the first to build a latrine. He was the best guy you could have in a camp !! I only hope I have become that man. Every camp needs one !! And I usually cook breakfast as well !!
In fish camp, my Dad brought flies and lures he made himself to share. He could disassemble a Mitchell reel around the campfire, and brought repair materials in an old metal toolbox !! He smoked a pipe with Borkhum Riff (sp?) tobacco. And I still remember him "smoking up a dime" for younger kids at the camp. A dime was big wampum in those days !! I never knew he slid the dime in before lighting it !! Good old Dad !!
When I was hospitalized at McDill AFB, my Dad drove down from Indiana. He showed up bearing newly tied flies !! I asked my Dad when I would fly-fish again. He LAUGHED at me and said "as soon as you get you ass outta this bed"
__________________ I keep tellin ya Doc, I'm in pretty good shape considerin the shape I'm in !!
Hey, thanks for sharing that story. I truely enjoyed reading that. Kind of a Tribute to his late Father. Very good writing too! I got my first 22 long rifle when I was 6 years old with a scope and still have it! I will never forget that Christmas I also got a fishing pole and tackle box and my Mom got me a doll, don't know whatever happened to that doll, but my gun is one of my most important things I have....Miss S
__________________
IF IT DOESN'T GET HOT..IT DOESN'T HAVE ENOUGH FIREPOWER....DBL TAPP IS NOT DANCING..
Thank you all. I am glad so many others enjoyed it. I thought of sending the author of it a PM, stating that it is so well written that he should submit it to possibly Field and Stream or another magazine. I'm sure it would probably get in.
__________________ LUKE 22:36 -and he that has no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one. NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT
Really Good Story 
