Sunday we cruised out to The Ranch for a Ranger ride. We like to go check on things. Just see what’s going on. A field trip, if you will.
The Ranger was in the shop, so we were sitting around chatting in the house; Baby Gray was drawing a blue print so we could make a new Ranger. Then I saw it. A Red Rider BB gun. Not my BB gun, longer, but it sparked an idea.
“Hey, Hays, do you want to learn to shoot?” I asked.
Of course he did. Off I went to find my BB gun in my old bedroom. As is part of our tradition, I grabbed a Chinet plate off the top of the refrigerator and adorned it with thick red marker for a target.
The boys headed outside, armed with both my Daisy and the newly acquired Red Rider.
They talked gun safety, learned about cocking the gun, practiced with the sights, and then started some target practice. The boy’s a lot like me. If it doesn’t come easy and automatically, he’s not real interested. He gave it longer than I thought he would, though.
So many memories came flooding back of myself and that Daisy BB gun. A friend would come out, and we’d go exploring; we needed the gun for safety, of course. When it would rain, my dad would draw a target on a box, and I’d shoot across the kitchen. The box would catch the BBs. It’s something I’ll always remember. I’m so grateful for that piece of land, that little ranch house, and the memories surrounding it all. I’m grateful our son will have them, too.