Smithhound
US Veteran
He was old when I first met him, by far the oldest person I had known by that time of my life, My Sixth birthday was approaching but in that Summer I found myself in Dickson County Tennessee. A Great Aunt I never knew had been stung by a honeybee and had faired badly by it, seems she had died within an hour of the sting. So my Family had packed up and had taken a trip from Michigan to this remote place in the country I’d heard of before only on the Disney show. Tennessee…land of Davy Crocket and Daniel Boone, both of whom I’d watched on the black and white TV, maybe I’d get to see a bear. Carve my initials in a tree, meet Mingo?
Edgar Gunn was his name, my Great Grandfather on my Dad’s side, old. Sat in his rocking chair on the front porch as we pulled down the short driveway. Wearing a straw hat he sat and waved, Annie, his Wife came out, all excited. She was getting to see not one but two Great Grandchildren, my Sister had been born not long before, a noisy, squealing inconvenience if you’d have asked me, but there we were. Hugs and kisses and the first time I’d ever heard anyone say “Land’s sake’!’. Miss Annie was very excited. She’d baked a lemon cake. We got settled in the little house they lived in, Edgar and Annie Gunn. Close to the road which at that time was tarred dirt, had a short sidewalk lined with yellow flowers, some big trees which I tried climbing. An artisian well flowed out thru a hosepipe to the ditch out front, frogs lived there, it’s where the old couple drew they‘re drinking water. Tennessee might not be too bad, but it was hot in August. Later that night there were lightening bugs and I met my cousin Johnny Gunn, lit up a jar with them bugs me and him, wondered about bears, Johnny laughed at me.
Next morning I learned more about my Great Grandfather, Edgar Gunn. He had been born and raised on Garners Creek there in Dickson County, had never left it. He rode a mule and had never driven nor ridden in a car. He said that if he couldn’t reach a place on the back of a mule in a day, he didn’t need to be there. Don’t remember the reaction to that, but being deemed too young to go to a funeral, and Edgar and Annie unwilling to ride to town to go, I was left there, my sister too, she could fend for herself as far as I was concerned. Too noisy.
It didn’t take long before boredom set in after the others had left. No TV, just a radio ballgame on. Me and my Great Granddad sat on the porch for awhile fanning. Finally he said ‘ya ever shoot a gun, boy?’. ..A gun?...a real gun? Well I must have about fallen out of my chair and couldn’t ask him if we could enough, it had to have been obvious that I not only hadn’t, but thought that was a better idea than even going looking for bears, or Mingo. Edgar came out of the house with a big rifle and a couple of cardboard boxes of bullets,
‘Now this h’yere is a .22 rifle, it ainna toy, ye do as I say or it’s a goin back up, ye unnerstan?’ I near tore my head off it’s stalk nodding, ‘ Ye doan tetch it, less’n yer tole, ye doan poyn it nowhares s’cepen whare I tell ye, an ye doan never poyn it at no body, ya unnerstan, boy?’ More nodding, just staring at that gun, look out bears. ‘Now ahm a gonna put up some cans on yonder clothes line, boy, you doan tetch this gun.’, he put it down and headed for Miss Annies clothes line. It was all I could do not to touch that rifle, I wanted it that bad, but he seemed serious, I sat on my hands. As he came back, he smiled at me, I’d passed my first test.
‘So Ye never shot a gun, boy, w’all?’, I could barely stammer out a ‘No Sir’. ‘W’all’ -now pointing- ‘this h’yere’s tha back site, this h’yere’s tha front, this h’yeres tha bolt, this be tha stock, this be tha barrel, an this h’yere’s the trigger, unnerstan? Much nodding. ‘Ya’yns aim it so…’ I watched him pick it up to his shoulder and squint down the barrel.
The loudest sound I’d ever heard in my life almost made me jump from my skin! I almost ran.
‘Got it, boy, didja see that?, wass matta with you? Skeer ye?’ Well, it had, not expecting it, didn‘t know what to expect, I hoped he couldn’t tell tho. ’ Ai’rght, yer turn’, I watched him pull back the bolt, take one little bullet out of the push thru box and load it, ’now this h’yere’s a .22, it got no kick, ye look down the back uh the barrel, line up tha notch in the back site with tha lil’ ball on tha front see?, hold her steady an squeeeeze tha trigger, doan be pointing’ that thing ’rond now, hear?’ I was shaking when I took it from him, Wow! A reall gun! I quickly found I couldn’t get it to my shoulder and reach the trigger, nor see the sights, but with his help and a lot of scrunching down on the stock I finally got that back site lined up like he patently showed me. At the first shot, I remember two things, dirt flying up on the hill behind the house and the smell of .22 gunpowder. My definition of a ‘squeeeze’ and his didn’t match, but with more patience and several more rounds I finally connected with a can. I was so proud to hear ‘Good shot, boy, now ye got it!’. We spent more time and a box of .22’s working over those cans. Later that day we went down Jason Chapel road, behind the Church to the old bridge and shot at snakes.
By days end, I’d forgot all about bears, and Mingo, but I knew then that I’d found something that I would remember and enjoy for the rest of my life.
I lost Great Grandfather Gunn, and Annie years ago, but I still have his rifle it‘s taken many a squirrel and groundhog it radiates memories, everytime I pick it up this particular one comes back to me, it’s a Remington Model 514 single shot, I’ve taken good care of it thru the years, it must be worth a Million Dollars, or at least $90, but it’s not for sale.
Thank you Great Grand Dad, Edgar Gunn for starting me down the path that has lead to this point in my life, your lessons, your patience and your memory will stay with me always. A hot summer week in Tennessee and a wonderful old Man. It seems like yesterday.
And I still like lemon cake, Miss Annie.
RD
Edgar Gunn was his name, my Great Grandfather on my Dad’s side, old. Sat in his rocking chair on the front porch as we pulled down the short driveway. Wearing a straw hat he sat and waved, Annie, his Wife came out, all excited. She was getting to see not one but two Great Grandchildren, my Sister had been born not long before, a noisy, squealing inconvenience if you’d have asked me, but there we were. Hugs and kisses and the first time I’d ever heard anyone say “Land’s sake’!’. Miss Annie was very excited. She’d baked a lemon cake. We got settled in the little house they lived in, Edgar and Annie Gunn. Close to the road which at that time was tarred dirt, had a short sidewalk lined with yellow flowers, some big trees which I tried climbing. An artisian well flowed out thru a hosepipe to the ditch out front, frogs lived there, it’s where the old couple drew they‘re drinking water. Tennessee might not be too bad, but it was hot in August. Later that night there were lightening bugs and I met my cousin Johnny Gunn, lit up a jar with them bugs me and him, wondered about bears, Johnny laughed at me.
Next morning I learned more about my Great Grandfather, Edgar Gunn. He had been born and raised on Garners Creek there in Dickson County, had never left it. He rode a mule and had never driven nor ridden in a car. He said that if he couldn’t reach a place on the back of a mule in a day, he didn’t need to be there. Don’t remember the reaction to that, but being deemed too young to go to a funeral, and Edgar and Annie unwilling to ride to town to go, I was left there, my sister too, she could fend for herself as far as I was concerned. Too noisy.
It didn’t take long before boredom set in after the others had left. No TV, just a radio ballgame on. Me and my Great Granddad sat on the porch for awhile fanning. Finally he said ‘ya ever shoot a gun, boy?’. ..A gun?...a real gun? Well I must have about fallen out of my chair and couldn’t ask him if we could enough, it had to have been obvious that I not only hadn’t, but thought that was a better idea than even going looking for bears, or Mingo. Edgar came out of the house with a big rifle and a couple of cardboard boxes of bullets,
‘Now this h’yere is a .22 rifle, it ainna toy, ye do as I say or it’s a goin back up, ye unnerstan?’ I near tore my head off it’s stalk nodding, ‘ Ye doan tetch it, less’n yer tole, ye doan poyn it nowhares s’cepen whare I tell ye, an ye doan never poyn it at no body, ya unnerstan, boy?’ More nodding, just staring at that gun, look out bears. ‘Now ahm a gonna put up some cans on yonder clothes line, boy, you doan tetch this gun.’, he put it down and headed for Miss Annies clothes line. It was all I could do not to touch that rifle, I wanted it that bad, but he seemed serious, I sat on my hands. As he came back, he smiled at me, I’d passed my first test.
‘So Ye never shot a gun, boy, w’all?’, I could barely stammer out a ‘No Sir’. ‘W’all’ -now pointing- ‘this h’yere’s tha back site, this h’yere’s tha front, this h’yeres tha bolt, this be tha stock, this be tha barrel, an this h’yere’s the trigger, unnerstan? Much nodding. ‘Ya’yns aim it so…’ I watched him pick it up to his shoulder and squint down the barrel.
The loudest sound I’d ever heard in my life almost made me jump from my skin! I almost ran.
‘Got it, boy, didja see that?, wass matta with you? Skeer ye?’ Well, it had, not expecting it, didn‘t know what to expect, I hoped he couldn’t tell tho. ’ Ai’rght, yer turn’, I watched him pull back the bolt, take one little bullet out of the push thru box and load it, ’now this h’yere’s a .22, it got no kick, ye look down the back uh the barrel, line up tha notch in the back site with tha lil’ ball on tha front see?, hold her steady an squeeeeze tha trigger, doan be pointing’ that thing ’rond now, hear?’ I was shaking when I took it from him, Wow! A reall gun! I quickly found I couldn’t get it to my shoulder and reach the trigger, nor see the sights, but with his help and a lot of scrunching down on the stock I finally got that back site lined up like he patently showed me. At the first shot, I remember two things, dirt flying up on the hill behind the house and the smell of .22 gunpowder. My definition of a ‘squeeeze’ and his didn’t match, but with more patience and several more rounds I finally connected with a can. I was so proud to hear ‘Good shot, boy, now ye got it!’. We spent more time and a box of .22’s working over those cans. Later that day we went down Jason Chapel road, behind the Church to the old bridge and shot at snakes.
By days end, I’d forgot all about bears, and Mingo, but I knew then that I’d found something that I would remember and enjoy for the rest of my life.
I lost Great Grandfather Gunn, and Annie years ago, but I still have his rifle it‘s taken many a squirrel and groundhog it radiates memories, everytime I pick it up this particular one comes back to me, it’s a Remington Model 514 single shot, I’ve taken good care of it thru the years, it must be worth a Million Dollars, or at least $90, but it’s not for sale.
Thank you Great Grand Dad, Edgar Gunn for starting me down the path that has lead to this point in my life, your lessons, your patience and your memory will stay with me always. A hot summer week in Tennessee and a wonderful old Man. It seems like yesterday.
And I still like lemon cake, Miss Annie.
RD
