Annie Oakley, visiting

Mama and Grandma have not been interested in firearms in all the years I have known them, but with the unique situations we may experience on the farm I have been trying to spark enough of an interest to at least know how to properly operate the 22 caliber rifle and the 410 shotgun. Every time I bring up the subject grandma reverts back to a very often repeated story of when they lived on the farm in West Virginia and some drunks were looting a small building they had near the house.


She saw what was happening and went to get the only the only rifle she knew of in the house. When she was getting ready to open the door she prayed and then walked through the front door into the open where the men could see her. Of course, they high tailed it out of there when she showed up with a weapon. As she tells it, the rifle was not loaded but they could not have known that and she says, for all they knew, she was Annie Oakley.”

Well, Mama and I watched a documentary on Annie Oakley several nights ago and it did finally spark Mama’s interest in learning to shoot properly. I would feel much better having rifles and pistols in the house if Mama and Victoria knew how to use them properly and safely. Maybe this coming week on the farm we will get a chance to start the process. I have to credit Nate with helping me reason through the choice of a 22 caliber rifle and pistol. As he puts it, a person will only shoot what they are comfortable with and they will only be comfortable as they practice. If ammo is prohibitively expensive, a person will not practice, ergo, they will not be comfortable with that particular firearm; with the price of 22 caliber ammo where it is, it makes sense.

My thanks to the real Annie Oakley.

We will be heading to Bowie this afternoon with a car full of stuff. It seems every trip we make in that direction we have a full load. Most of the load is for the farm. Some is for Victoria. Very little is for me and Mama. But that is the story of our life – and it is a good story.

Last night we went to visit a lady in our church whose husband does not come with her. She has been after me and Mama for some time to come over and meet her husband. We had a wonderful time over the two or so hours we spent in their home and I think Mama has found a friend if nothing else. She one of the daughters of a retired missionary couple who spent their life in Korea. We did not get to meet the father. He died just a week after we moved to Amarillo and started attending Central Baptist, but we dearly love the mother, who is now in her mid eighties. The daughter, it turns out, is also a delight to be around. Her husband, although stiff, was very hospitable.

Those types of visits are not common anymore but I have a strong suspicion they will make a comeback over the next decade. We have substituted such time with friends with TV, movies at home, and eating out. We as a culture prefer the comfort of private evenings and wasted hours watching our favorite shows. It is never fully comfortable to be in someone else’s house, nor to have people visit in our homes, but once the effort is made, there always seems to be a sense of having spent an evening wisely; of having done something useful and rewarding.

We really need more of that.