So yesterday wasn’t my most productive ever. Four hours spent running errands basically killed all hope of getting any writing done since by the time i got home I was beat. On the plus side, I did get a few important things taken care of and had a nice lunch out, to go of course, eaten in the car, but still good.
Not really a lot to report, so I thought today would be a good day to share another of my grandfather’s stories. This is a good one and it will illustrate how much things have changed in ninety years.
My grandfather was around ten when this story takes place. He wanted a .22 rifle but his parents wouldn’t but him one. Even back then kids would get a nickel here or a dime there from the grownups around them. So he saves those coins until he has five dollars which he mails to Sears along with an order for a brand new, single shot, .22 rifle. A gun, mailed to a ten year old, no questions asked, though I assume he lied and claimed he was his father.
With the first half of the mission complete, the hard part began, waiting. Everyday He would rush home from school and sit on the porch until the mailman arrived. A few weeks passed and finally it showed up along with a box of 50 cartridges. He rushed it up to his room and hid it under his bed.
He snuck out every chance he got to shoot it and it took like three months for his father to catch him. Since he hadn’t killed himself or anyone else he got to keep the gun. He also got a spanking, but he was used to that.
I think it’s fair to say the rules were a little more relaxed back then. For awhile you could even buy a full auto Thomson submachine gun through the mail.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the little story.
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Talk to you tomorrow