Christmas morning, I went over to their Mom’s house and picked up my older 2 sons. Grandma and Grandpa came over and we spent the latter half of the morning dishing out presents to each other. Moose gave me a stool he made in Woodshop. I gave Moose a couple of Bob Marley posters, a warm vest and a couple pair of jeans.

After everyone had settled in to await the trek over to Grandma’s house for dinner, I told Moose I had something for him. We went downstairs. I handed him an orange ammo case, he opened it up. It was some 30-06. Big deal! Oh, but this was different. This ammo case still has the $1.95 sticker on it from Sport Headquarters. It burned down back in ’88. Still not significant?
This was the ammo box that accompanied Dad on his first boar hunt. Actually I also sneaked a yellow one into my other vest pocket as I was going out the door of the lodge– the guide had gotten me so worked up over breakfast I wanted extra rounds for insurance. When I got back to the lodge that night, I found I’d been carrying 44 rounds of 30-06 180 grained roundnose. I guess I was determined not to run out.

Still not a big deal, huh?

But No! It was a big deal. I tried to explain that these were not loaded for the Garand he’d been borrowing for the past few years. Mai Non! They were also 150 grainers instead of 165 grain. That would reduce the felt recoil a bit in something other than a gas-operated semi. These were loaded with the bullet several thousandths further out. Granted you had to have a caliper to see the difference, but the difference was significant. Why? Allow me to demonstrate. They’re built to fit a few thousandths off the lands of. . . I pulled out the rifle case. . .

This: a very minty Winchester 770 in 30-06, gleaned from an estate sale in early November. I picked it up from the son-in-law, who’d gotten it and a few other pieces from the back of the closet. It had spent the last thirty years back there.

There was no sense taking pictures. All you would have seen was a kid in a basement, walleyed with amazement. You can imagine that well enough. I promise that I’ll take pictures as soon as we can get back down to the farm and I can take kid, rifle, ammo, and shooting bench and put them all together.

From the back of an old man’s closet to the grip of a young man’s hands, the road goes on forever and the party never ends.
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