Guns, mostly. My Dad never really warmed up to his Beretta Silver Snipe 12 gauge. He knew I liked it. I bought my brother a second hand but, like new Savage BSE 12 gauge in about 1980, that he used his entire hunting life, that is here, now. The stock broke and you could still get new ones, so he bought one and when we put it on the first round sent a chunk of wood flying. I glued it back together, roughed up the glossy varnish on the gun, and shot it with some more varnish, doing the only “invisible” stock repair I’ve ever pulled off. He took a bunch of deer with that gun, and three grouse, that I know of.
My buddy Carl made sure two of his Darne gun and an Italian Richland 20 came to live here. My buddy Scott invited me over for dinner one day, and after dinner, brought out a gun slip with his Dads A5 12 gauge in it, and told me his late Dad had asked him to give it to me, and say thanks for the great hunting trips and dog work we shared.
There are, sadly, a bunch more. To me, it is bittersweet, and a powerful reminder of the men who helped form my hunting and fishing life who I will never see again. I’d trade every, single, one of them for one more day afield with my dad. Only a couple are guns that I have a good use for, most of these guys lived for ducks, geese and deer, but, the guns all quietly await another day afield, mostly in vain, I imagine-there are four deer rifles I’ve never fired in the mix. My brother is still alive, and I haven’t been able to wrap my head around shooting any of his guns just yet, either. It is a strange feeling of thinking he should be here with me when I want to use one, which leads me to picking up a different gun to use. I can’t sum it up any better than that.
None of them are treasure, but, they were treasured by men I treasured. I expect someday I will find them homes, but, I’m not there, yet.
Best,
Ted
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