Goose hunting pajamas
Way back when, Grandroobly once drove his dad’s vee-hickle to Canada and back with a rifle sitting up there in the back window, right in plain sight. He had no idea it was there and didn’t look. He went through customs on both sides without any problems despite being asked, “do you have any firearms?” They used to ask that all the time but I haven’t personally been asked about firearms in a long time. Anyway, he said, “no.” And then, after he had cleared customs on both sides, he looked in the rear view mirror and there was his dad’s rifle sitting in the back window. I’m not sure when this exactly happened. I am thinking it was back in the day when we still had to take the ferry to Canada.
It’s Jim Sherman and Grandroobly in the picture. They were friends and of course, they were just playing around. I don’t really remember my dad shooting guns much as I was growing up. He was not a hunter. He was a very busy banker for as long as I can remember. I knew he could shoot a gun. His dad, my Grandberry, was certainly proficient with a gun and he taught his sons, I think. That’s the way things used to be.
Many years later, after Grandroobly was retired from banking, he woke up very early one morning and there were a bunch of geese out in front of the cabin, on Fin Family Moominbeach. Grandroobly got up and after a couple of trips down to the beach and back, he grabbed a gun and decided to go and shoot a goose. When he got back down to the beach, he realized that he was still wearing his pajamas and then he started thinking about some of the, well, anti-gun women around there in the Birch Point Bay area (they were friends of ours) and he decided maybe he wouldn’t try shooting a goose after all. And, really, he was the last person on earth who would ever want to kill another living being. Especially while wearing pajamas. Miss you, old coot!
January 30th, 2008 at 10:34 pm
I remember Jack and others (maybe Duke) shooting skeet down on the beach, toward Doelles.
And I also remember Jim showing me Jack’s guns up in his room on the second floor of the 1304 Superior house.
January 31st, 2008 at 4:42 pm
Aww, the poor little skeet. You hardly see any around the cabin anymore, maybe they were hunted to near extinction! Big Wink!
And now “skeet” means too short, as in “Urquel’s pants are skeet”. It also apparently refers to a certain type or clique of people, but I’m not sure I’ve got that part straight. Let’s hear it for a middle school education!
January 31st, 2008 at 5:52 pm
Jim got into skeet shooting at the local Huntsman’s Club; inevitably went with one of his buddies from work. Then, it seemed after Jeff took a transfer to El Paso, the skeet shooting interest abruptly stopped….
Then there was that period at the Cabin when Jim would say “Jack! Let’s go shoot guns!” (or something like that 😉 ) and the two of them would tromp off somewhere and we’d hear POP! POP! POP! for a while, then they’d reappear.