I remember one particular Christmas (68 years ago) when I was just 12. A neighbor had taken pity on me and took me small game hunting for the first few times the preceding fall. I had mowed lawns and done various chores to save up enough money to buy a 16 gauge single barrel shotgun so I could go with him, but had always wanted a .22 rifle. Up to that time I hadn't saved enough to buy one.
On Christmas morning there was a package under the tree with my Father's name on it. Mom had told me he was thinking about taking up golf, and the package held a couple of golf clubs. The shape of the package was such that her answer made some sense to me, so I bought it, hook line and sinker. When we got around to opening gifts, Dad asked me to unwrap his. When I removed the paper and boxing, lo and behold a Savage .22 rifle stared back at me. It was the best Christmas gift I ever got.
I still have that old .22, and take it out squirrel hunting on occasion. I also use it to keep the local groundhogs in check. The rifle is so old that it doesn't even have a serial number, but I love it.
trkyhntr
No man's life, liberty, or property are safe while the legislature is in session.
--Mark Twain (1866)
