A sheet of wood, a pint of wood stain, a jigsaw, and a box of screws sat on the tailgate of a rusted out ’78 Chevy pickup. Dad went upstairs to grab his gun rack, which my brother and I would dissemble and use as a template for our own gun racks. It was a scorching hot mid-Summer Ohio afternoon. Bluebird skies, and the neighborhood had just quieted down after a shift change at the washer and dryer factory across the street.
The neighbor kid next door had a Super Nintendo, a Sega Genesis, and pale white skin. We had parents who were more than slightly frugal, and didn’t see buying their kids a >$100 game system as a wise investment. We complained a little bit, but 12 gauge shotguns under the Christmas tree the year we both turned 12 made us forget all about Mortal Kombat and Sonic the Hedgehog. In A Godda Da Vida blared on a classic rock station as we built our own gun racks.
We enthusiastically hung each on opposite ends of our bedroom from each other. They made the move to northern Michigan, and then mine hopped around with me as I figured out how to be an adult after high school. Then it just kind of disappeared. Sometime around my 21st birthday I got a fancy schmancy gun cabinet so I could lock my guns behind a piece of plexiglass etched with the image of a leaping whitetail deer, and the old gun rack was pretty much forgotten. Until today.
While I was in New York, Michigan created an apprentice hunting program. In a nutshell, my son will be able to actually hunt at the tender age of 10 in 3 days for small game, and in about two weeks for his first deer. And since I’ve been patiently waiting for the day to come when I could hunt alongside my son, I’m pretty damn excited. I found out about the new program today around 5 p.m., got out of work at 6:30 p.m., and had him back at the shop picking out his first hunting vest,orange cap, and buying his first hunting license at 7 p.m..
Tonight, the fly tying room smells like gun oil instead of head cement, and I think its time to go pay grandma and grandpa a visit. We’ll pick up a sheet of wood on the way there. Pull Dad’s old gun rack off the wall, crank a little In A Godda Da Vida, and build the boy his first gun rack.