The Second Amendment
Bible Camp
I remember once when I went to this camp that all of us cousins hated, there was a place there where we fired BB Guns. We lay on our bellies inside some sort of dark shack, and shot at colorful targets. It was a Christian camp. We couldn't abide it. We called the road to the camp "murder road" and were convinced that our parents were just dumping us there to get on with the unfettered pleasures of their summer.
I went down to the BB shed after one kid strangled me for a while while I was rocking in a wooden rocking chair on the porch of the bible study building. He had just come out from bible study group and didn't go down to the water with the other kids. Instead he came around the corner of the porch and began to strangle me.
The camp had a native american theme area with a large teepee on an empty athletic field. One of my cousins hid packs of sugar between the tent poles and the canvas covering stretched around them. When things just became too much for all of us, we'd escape and meet in the teepee. Then my cousin reached around behind the poles and pulled out packs of sugar. She would tear them open and pour out the sugar into our hands.
While the true belivers swam and fired rifles, we ate raw sugar.
Unloaded Twenty-Two
My great aunt and uncle lived in upstate New York. She had been a bank VP long before women pierced the glass ceiling. He was a World War veteran who had a cooking show on TV. I remember a thick rug of dark blue, very plush, with red figures. I sat on the rug and played with their dogs. Every year we siphoned their swimming pool, and we often collected brush.
During one visit I was in the study with my great uncle. He handed me a rifle that was heavier than the BB guns from camp. I hefted it. He showed me how to aim it, and explained the way to pull the trigger softly so as not to rock the weapon.
"Pull the trigger", he said. "It's not loaded."
I held the rifle against my shoulder and stared down the barrel. I moved the sight around the room and settled down on a three-foot-high blue and white antique vase from China that was resting in the far corner. When I squeezed off the trigger, the vase instantly exploded.
Why I cannot remember the specifics of his wife's response, I don't know. But my great uncle was flexible, he explained to me how important it is to determine whether or not a rifle is loaded before it is fired.
Coming soon in this issue :
A Norwegian Sweater
Six of Them
Welfare Mom
The Back Steps
Commando
Home Defense
I remember once when I went to this camp that all of us cousins hated, there was a place there where we fired BB Guns. We lay on our bellies inside some sort of dark shack, and shot at colorful targets. It was a Christian camp. We couldn't abide it. We called the road to the camp "murder road" and were convinced that our parents were just dumping us there to get on with the unfettered pleasures of their summer.
I went down to the BB shed after one kid strangled me for a while while I was rocking in a wooden rocking chair on the porch of the bible study building. He had just come out from bible study group and didn't go down to the water with the other kids. Instead he came around the corner of the porch and began to strangle me.
The camp had a native american theme area with a large teepee on an empty athletic field. One of my cousins hid packs of sugar between the tent poles and the canvas covering stretched around them. When things just became too much for all of us, we'd escape and meet in the teepee. Then my cousin reached around behind the poles and pulled out packs of sugar. She would tear them open and pour out the sugar into our hands.
While the true belivers swam and fired rifles, we ate raw sugar.
Unloaded Twenty-Two
My great aunt and uncle lived in upstate New York. She had been a bank VP long before women pierced the glass ceiling. He was a World War veteran who had a cooking show on TV. I remember a thick rug of dark blue, very plush, with red figures. I sat on the rug and played with their dogs. Every year we siphoned their swimming pool, and we often collected brush.
During one visit I was in the study with my great uncle. He handed me a rifle that was heavier than the BB guns from camp. I hefted it. He showed me how to aim it, and explained the way to pull the trigger softly so as not to rock the weapon.
"Pull the trigger", he said. "It's not loaded."
I held the rifle against my shoulder and stared down the barrel. I moved the sight around the room and settled down on a three-foot-high blue and white antique vase from China that was resting in the far corner. When I squeezed off the trigger, the vase instantly exploded.
Why I cannot remember the specifics of his wife's response, I don't know. But my great uncle was flexible, he explained to me how important it is to determine whether or not a rifle is loaded before it is fired.
Coming soon in this issue :
A Norwegian Sweater
Six of Them
Welfare Mom
The Back Steps
Commando
Home Defense
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