Guns

He was one tough cowboy with
his double-holster!

Our boys were preschool age when they began playing with guns. I suppose some would find that alarming – and even shocking - that we had allowed it at such a young age. As one good friend once said to me as she lifted her hand up, her index finger pointed straight out and the rest curled into a fist, “they have one built in.” Her point was that whether we give them one or not, they will find a way to play “guns.” And she was right. The boys often built elaborate guns out of their Legos, even though they had some very nice toy guns that we had bought for them. So, the issue wasn’t playing with them. It was teaching them what they were (and were not) for and how to handle them carefully.

Several years later, when they were in their later grade school years, we visited some friends at their home in Idaho. They had eight beautiful acres, most of it wooded, and part of it bordered the Pond Oreille River. The husband was an avid hunter who owned several different types of guns, and had built his own shooting range. One afternoon during our visit, he asked if it would be okay to let the boys shoot one or two of his guns. It was the perfect opportunity for us to teach them gun safety and allow them to experience the power of a real gun.

The shooting range was a long, narrow clearing. We grabbed a lot of empty pop cans and set them up at the end of the range. The boys were given a lesson on how to hold the guns, how to aim them, and how to fire them. They were repeatedly warned never to point a gun at anybody. Then they were each given a turn with a rifle.

Our oldest son enjoyed the experience and had a lot of fun. But TJ … TJ blew all of us out of the water (figuratively speaking, that is)! He seemed to have perfect aim no matter which gun he was allowed to use and no matter where we set the pop cans. He hit each and every one on the first shot. So, our friend finally decided TJ had to be given the opportunity to use one of his special handguns. He was actually testing TJ’s ability to aim so accurately. Up to this point he’d been using the scopes on the rifles. The handgun didn’t have a scope and would force TJ’s accuracy to be based solely upon his ability to aim the gun on his own. We encouraged him to go for a pop can that was closer to him. We figured it would be an easy target. He nailed it. As he moved from one target to another, each and every time he hit his mark dead on and sent the can flying. TJ has never forgotten that afternoon and neither have we!

When we moved to Michigan we moved into the heart of hunting country! November 15^th was the official opening day of deer hunting season (with rifles) and it should have been a state holiday. School attendance dropped almost in half and anybody who could took the day off from work. They were all out in their hunting blinds looking for their deer. TJ loved the idea and took his hunter’s safety class as soon as somebody offered to take him hunting with them. Since then he has gone hunting with friends about three or four times. Each and every time he has never even seen a deer, much less been able to use that incredible aim of his. But, none of this has diminished his love for guns.

TJ continued to go to shooting ranges with friends throughout his high school years and prior to enlisting with the Air Force. He is not afraid of them and most importantly, he does “respect” them, handling them with extreme care.

When he entered Basic Military Training his prior experience with guns proved very useful. He quickly picked up the training he was given. His final shooting exam was a timed exam. I don’t know the specifics of what was expected, but what I do know is that his gun jammed three times during his exam. He not only fixed the problem but he was able to complete what was expected of him, and that perfect aim from long ago at our friend’s shooting range … well, he put it to use once again and earned his expert marksmanship bar. He was so excited!

TJ, right, on guard duty in Kuwait.
His gun has gotten much bigger!

He continued to learn all he could about the guns he is required to use and handle in the Air Force. He knows how to take them apart and reassemble them in pretty quick time. He now works in the armory and oversees the lower ranking members. Many airmen treat their work in the armory as something akin to checking in books at the local library. Not TJ. As military weapons are checked in at the armory, he makes sure they are properly cleaned and stored. He understands that he puts his fellow airmen in harms way if those weapons are not in top condition each and every time they are taken out into the field. TJ takes that responsibility very seriously.

TJ has never abused a firearm and has a very healthy respect for them. I believe much of this goes back to those early years when we took two small boys who wanted to play “guns” and gave them a healthy understanding and appreciation of, and respect for guns. One of those boys laid down the toy guns and picked up a guitar. The other, TJ, took his love for his country and his knowledge and respect of guns and is using both to serve and protect us.

The Smell of Brown Bread Baking

The cooler and wetter weather of the northwest autumn seems to have settled in upon us. Sweatshirts are being pulled from the closet far more often during the evenings and early mornings and I’m enjoying the warmth of having a scented candle burning. Fall is here and I love it! It has always been my favorite season.

One of the ladies in our neighborhood organized a fall soup luncheon and asked if I’d bring a loaf of bread. I enjoy baking but just don’t do it very often anymore, so I welcomed the “excuse” to pull out the bread pans and turn on the oven. I quickly decided to use a recipe that had been given to me almost twenty years ago. It is a sweet bread that makes an excellent side dish to just about any meal. So, this morning I set out the ingredients on the kitchen counter and began to mix them together. What fun to be using this favorite recipe again!

What I was not prepared for was the flood of memories that came rushing in upon me as the kitchen warmed and the smell of that bread baking filled the room. We had been living in the desert of Southern California about three years when I began a home business of painting sweatshirts and selling them at a craft fair that was held once a month, from October through March during the height of the snowbird season, in one of the many RV parks in our area.

We also realized that the snowbirds, in their fifth wheels and travel trailers, didn’t really like to heat their “rigs” by doing a lot of baking. But, they still liked their baked goods!  We were looking for a way that the boys could earn a little bit of extra money and wondered what if they baked brown bread and sold it at the craft fair? It would teach them something about baking, how to manage the money they made, and would encourage interaction with the people as they sold the bread at the craft fair.

With a small amount of fear, we ventured forth and gave it a try. I measured out the dry ingredients on Thursday and on Friday the boys took turns mixing and baking a batch under the watchful eye of Mom! They made four loaves of bread with each batch and as soon as one batch came out of the oven, the next one was ready to go in. The kitchen sink was constantly in use washing the mixing bowl and bread pans. It was a steady assembly-line type of operation that produced 36 loaves of bread by the end of the day. We sliced two loaves to use as samples and the other 34 were sold for $3 a loaf.

As we approached the beginning of that first craft show I wondered how would these two grade school-aged boys do selling their bread and talking with the older adults at the fair? What would I do with the leftover loaves of bread? How would they react to the possibility of not selling very much? So many concerns!

I remember the other craft people smiling at us as the boys and I set our table up that first time. I think they were wondering the same things that I had been wondering the night before. And then the first flood of customers came through the door.  We had been given a table in one of the first aisles, a very good spot. But, it was the two young boys at the table that sparked an interest in what we had that really drew people to our table.

As people stopped to see what it was we were selling my heart slowly crept up into my throat. I was so anxious for the boys, concerned they would become nervous and fearful as they talked with their customers. To my surprise that was the last thing I needed to worry about! Our oldest son took charge immediately and would have put the best of any salesman to shame as he promoted their bread. TJ quietly allowed his older brother to take over this role and he simply maintained the sample dish and continued to replenish the loaves sitting on the table. And that fear of what we would do with all the left-over bread … that was truly wasted time and emotional energy on my part! The boys sold out within the first three hours of the six hour day!

The boys all ready to sell their bread.

The boys continued selling their bread for the next four years. They created a competition of sorts, seeing if they could sell out faster than when they had at the previous show. I think their record was selling out within an hour! The bread was so popular we began receiving calls the day before the shows asking if we were coming or if the caller could reserve a few loaves. One year the boys even received a request for a special order to be made just before Christmas! It became a very good business for them!

The last year the boys made bread was 1999, twelve years ago. I honestly don’t remember the last time my kitchen has been warmed by the oven, filling the house with the wonderful scent of brown bread. But, it was today. And, it was not just the kitchen that was warmed by the oven pushing the chills of the October morning out. It was my heart that was warmed with the memories of two boys working side-by-side as they made “The Dough Boys” Brown Bread.