Being born in the bottom of the Depression [1931] I was raised an only child. Tough times for sure. 25% unemployment was common, then WW2 came in 1941 so everything boomed. I had a Daisy BB gun and was a terror to the sparrows around the house. Then we moved to a place in the country on 3 acres . Mom gave me her Remington Model 33 .22. WW@ was still going and ammo was hard to get. Met my friend Joe at that time [1944] so we when rabbit & squirlls hunting together. Once I only had 4 Long Rifle shells & Joe had 5. So as years go by I remember my youth an want to pass it on to anyone interested. And Yes, I had a Elgin bike that was stolen during the war by Billy Barrows, He went to reform school and the Sheriff got it back in different pieces. I rode it until I drove my Model A Ford. Joe and I are still friends. We both are in our 90's
About my youth
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Old 44 Guy, I am 20 years behind you, but I, too, reflect upon my early years.... So many memories...
One is about my best pal at around eight.. "Dickie"... His real name was Eric. All the shenanigans we got up to...
This was Munich, our dads worked for the CIA, late '50s, not that we knew it, at 8, but we had a good time terrorizing the neighborhood as Yankees abroad...
Once we found some colored powders, paint (?), in a dump (?), anyway an abandoned spot, under some thick tree cover, retrieved the powders from what looked like an abandoned doctor's bag, and then threw the powders in their little paper bags into the trees above a garden party in the neighborhood, and, as the powders showered down on the well dressed guests, ran off, laughing our butts off, delighted at our mischief.
Dickie's dad was a gunsmith hobbyist, I guess one would say, so another time we were running around the neighborhood with a couple of rifle barrels we'd found in Dickie's dad's workspace, when the German police stopped us and asked what was up. We answered truthfully. "These belong to Dickie's dad and we are just playing around." The cops accepted that, and left us alone.
Another time, daring one another, we peed on a parked police car! Just for the thrill of being bad boys! Yep. We wuz bad l'il fellas!
Dickie was my best friend.
Later, back in the US, Dickie died of a blood ailment. He was probably 16 or so, because that is the age I was when I learned of his death. My dad let me have the family car to drive a few hours to his funeral. My first extended road trip.
I think of him, now and then. He was a good friend.
One is about my best pal at around eight.. "Dickie"... His real name was Eric. All the shenanigans we got up to...
This was Munich, our dads worked for the CIA, late '50s, not that we knew it, at 8, but we had a good time terrorizing the neighborhood as Yankees abroad...
Once we found some colored powders, paint (?), in a dump (?), anyway an abandoned spot, under some thick tree cover, retrieved the powders from what looked like an abandoned doctor's bag, and then threw the powders in their little paper bags into the trees above a garden party in the neighborhood, and, as the powders showered down on the well dressed guests, ran off, laughing our butts off, delighted at our mischief.
Dickie's dad was a gunsmith hobbyist, I guess one would say, so another time we were running around the neighborhood with a couple of rifle barrels we'd found in Dickie's dad's workspace, when the German police stopped us and asked what was up. We answered truthfully. "These belong to Dickie's dad and we are just playing around." The cops accepted that, and left us alone.
Another time, daring one another, we peed on a parked police car! Just for the thrill of being bad boys! Yep. We wuz bad l'il fellas!
Dickie was my best friend.
Later, back in the US, Dickie died of a blood ailment. He was probably 16 or so, because that is the age I was when I learned of his death. My dad let me have the family car to drive a few hours to his funeral. My first extended road trip.
I think of him, now and then. He was a good friend.
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Sounds like you had a simple but somewhat happy & fulfilling childhood. I was just 70, and STILL live right down the block from my all time Best Friend for 67 years. Originally we were next door neighbors in the old neighborhood. To me, family & friends are what make or break someones life story - not all the thinks we can not take with us.
BTW, I have heard from a bunch of older shooters that one of the reasons they became such good shots with relatively low cost firearms is because they could only afford to buy ammunition 5 rounds at a time! No room for missing!
BTW, I have heard from a bunch of older shooters that one of the reasons they became such good shots with relatively low cost firearms is because they could only afford to buy ammunition 5 rounds at a time! No room for missing!
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twodog max
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The OP reminds me of my Dad. Born in 1930 he grew up poor and orphaned. This brings back his tales of his growing up out in the country. He has been gone over 10 years now and I sure wish I could hear his windy tales again.
Ah yes, childhood memories. Turbulent times growing up in Detroit as my neighborhood changed and mom and I caught holy hell. My mom was a great lady, just happened to marry the wrong guy. Best thing for me was when dad left as he was an abusive drunk. In fact, he hated police as he was arrested numerous times. Never did find out that I became one.
My childhood was what I used as an example of what not to repeat with my family, and that is not easy. But it's been a good run and I am proud of my family, and we share great friends and neighbors. I still regularly see two of my closest childhood friends.
Some of the roughest childhoods are those born with deadly life
threatening diseases and other health issues. We need to support those families more.
My childhood was what I used as an example of what not to repeat with my family, and that is not easy. But it's been a good run and I am proud of my family, and we share great friends and neighbors. I still regularly see two of my closest childhood friends.
Some of the roughest childhoods are those born with deadly life
threatening diseases and other health issues. We need to support those families more.
OP
Well, Chief' What I failed to say was no guns or ammo was available to the public, all went to the war effort. If you were a farmer you could get a box shotgun shells or 22 shells once a month.
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