DISQUS

Rev. Paul · 6 months ago

What a wonderful way to remember a man, warts and all. That made my eyes get all blurry, too - okay, it made me cry. Thank you.

Asphyxiated Emancipation · 6 months ago

I wish I had something deep and meaningful to comment after a post like that, but I seem to have something in my eye.

virtualquilter · 6 months ago

You have given me a whole new meaning to the phrase 'son of a gun.' Happy memories, happy fathers day.

northflrn · 6 months ago

Once again you prove yourself a scribe of rare talents. I am humbled and blessed every time you decide to pen something like this.


Thank You

ZerCool · 6 months ago

Dammit ... something in my eye .. allergies ...

Jen · 6 months ago

Thank you for the beautiful Father's day story.

Comrade E.B. Misfit · 6 months ago

My dad had a Browning Auto-5 12 gauge. It was the first new firearm he ever bought. I used it, so did my brother.


Probably the maddest I got just before he died was when I found out that he had given the Browning to my brother. Mom gave me his Japanese Ithaca 20-gauge over/under after he passed on and, truth be told, I shoot that better than the Browning.



But damn, I wanted that Browning.

Capt. Schmoe · 6 months ago

I got nothing in my eye, I'm sniveling like a damn sissy. Great post.


(sorry rev.)

Owen · 6 months ago

well damn that made me cry. Good job, happy fathers day.

fuzzys dad · 6 months ago

Great story.Thank-You for sharing it with us. yes I have a tear in my eye.

reflectoscope · 6 months ago

It isn't always true, but this time we are all fortunate that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.


Jim

Steve R · 6 months ago

I managed to make it all the way to the end without crying. Well. Almost all the way.


My dad had one of those Belgium Browning 16s as well. I was pretty good with it too, 30 years ago. Unfortunately, he sold it a few years back. Wish I'd known.



Well told, AD, well told.

Bob · 6 months ago

Wonderful writing, AD. I've read stories in the hunting and fishing magazines that weren't one tenth that good. If you haven't been submitting these for publication, you should be.

brendan · 6 months ago

This Northern boy's got nothing even close to a story- or an heirloom- like that.


Dammit.

Charles · 6 months ago

My uncle gave me one of those Belgum Brownings a couple of years back. I afraid that I can't say that mine holds as much family history as yours, but it was a gift from the man that introduced my brother and I to shooting, and gun saftey. It's more than enough for me.

George · 6 months ago

Thank you, AD, for this most heartfelt tribute ... to a gun and to a father. In the telling, your writing opens another window yourself as a son.


Regards,

Dano · 6 months ago

Very nice post. Sorta the way I feel with my grandpa, and I still have the gun he grew up with... a little Hamilton Rifle Model 27... a .22 short. More than 100 years old at this point, but every ding and scratch can tell its own story.


Thanks for the memories, and for dredging up some of mine.

Anonymous · 6 months ago

Your story gives me hope for my son and his dad. Hoping they'll mend their differences. But my son is already 22 so I don't know. But a very awesome story about you and your dad. Thanks for much for sharing.

Chris · 6 months ago

Great story, AD. Stuff like this keeps me coming back.


Friend of mine, who knows nothing about guns, had to take an old shotgun away from his father. The old man can't tell friend from foe anymore, and when my friend opened the door to see his dad tinkering around with a shotgun, well... it was time for the gun to go somewhere else.



He asked if I'd help him get rid of the old thing. I asked what kind of shotgun it was, he didn't know, but it said 'Browning' on it. I told him that was a good start... When he pulled that 'ole hump-back out of the garage, I just knew I'd found a treasure. 1960 production Belgium 12Mag, grade 1 engraving and wood, a 20" tube with a cutts and a full set of chokes, and a 28" modified vent rib with an ivory bead.



As much as I treasure that shotgun, I occasionally feel shamed that I took what should have been an heirloom. (but no, I'm not giving it back!)

Old NFO · 6 months ago

Thanks for sharing that AD. Beautiful!

Airedalelover · 6 months ago

Beautiful, just beautiful. Thanks!
You have a rare talent.

Linda · 6 months ago

Great story AD

Jay · 6 months ago

thanks AD made me want to go hug my Dad & my young son & take them both to the range.

Seth from Massachusetts · 6 months ago

Well done AD. Well done. Those who do not know guns will never understand what they mean to us.


My dad didn't hunt or do much of any shooting, but he was interested in guns as mechanical objects and his interest started me on the way to an lifelong fascination with all things guns. The devil will get a very good deal on my soul before the '98 Krag he left me passes from my hands!

Anonymous · 6 months ago

That brought back a flood of memories of my own father... he taught me to shoot at eight years old, and it wasn't long before we were happily amusing ourselves with the Garands and Springfields at 1K yards for hours on end.


I miss him terribly.

Fyremandoug · 6 months ago

I feel the same way with Dads model 12.....Outstanding post AD

ASM826 · 6 months ago

I own just one shotgun. A Browning A-5 Light 12. I have shot others, even the new autoloaders, but nothing calls to me, and nothing shoulders as well, as that old dinged up shotgun.


Damn, you can write.

Mrs. Who · 6 months ago

Beautiful story...just beautiful. Your dad was a great man...and he passed that on to his son.

JPG · 6 months ago

Kelly, I've been following your blog since shortly afer you started it. And I greatly enjoyed your book.


With all respect to your other efforts, I judge that this blogpost is very likely your finest writing ever.



JPG

Mark · 6 months ago

Thank you, AD.

KK · 6 months ago

This was quite simply the most beautiful thing I've read in quite a while.


I miss my father too.....

Anonymous · 6 months ago

I got (and still have) my grandfathers 1940's or 1950's era Remington 20 gauge Model 11 handed down to me when I turned 13 and was old enough to hunt. It was sort of a miniature version of the Belgium Browning A5 my father was shooting. It took more pheasants, quail, chukkars and ducks than anybody else would have expected for a 20 gauge.


A few years ago I got a chance to buy a mint Belgium built A5 and jumped at the chance. I still use it quite a bit, but get funny looks at the trap range when I'm trying to tune up for hunting season. And it has the tendancy to throw the empties about 3 stations down...



Thanks for bringing back to mind the hunting trips of my youth with my Dad and Grandfather.

Nate · 6 months ago

Its stories like that, which show that despite all the media says about us gunnies, there is nothing like a morning/day spent with family hunting that can give you memories you'll never forget.

misbeHaven · 6 months ago

I always enjoy reading your posts, AD, but this one cut pretty close to my heart.


My big bro was the product of Mom's previous marriage, and there was a lot of resentment between us two, particularly where it came to Dad. I always figured Dad loved BB more because he was a boy... certainly Dad spent a lot more time with him than with me when we were growing up. Later I found out BB always figured Dad loved me more because I was his own... even though Dad adopted BB, but that's beside the point.



Anyway, Dad and I didn't connect much when I was growing up. He really didn't know how to relate to a girl-child, and I was too young to understand that and too full of resentment to care. The only bond we had was shooting. From the moment he and Mom gifted me with a Daisy BB rifle when I was 4, through the moment they gifted me with a Colt King Cobra when I graduated high school, until well into my adulthood, in occasional trips to the range we found some joy and some peace in being father and daughter. After I left home for college (halfway across the country), every one of my visits home included range time. Dad taught me, coached me, challenged me... but always outshot me.



Until just a few years ago, on one of those visits home. He challenged me to make some shot or other (doesn't matter what)... and I outshot him. For the first time. Ever.



He cheered and congratulated me, and gave me a silver dollar for winning. And I smiled, laughed, accepted his praise. And cried myself to sleep that night... wept for the passing of the torch, for the knowledge that he was getting older, just as I was, and that one day I wouldn't have him anymore.



In my adult years, we've grown closer, Dad and I, and found more common ground... he relates to me better as an adult, and I have a better understanding of him. We still go to the range together whenever I'm home... although my husband tags along now, too... and we still enjoy our time together. But I don't accept challenges from him anymore. I don't want to be reminded that his sun is setting.