Lost freedoms

[Shinneryfarmer]

My grandpa had quite a bit of land that I hunted as a youth. I remember getting up before daylight, take my 22 or 410 and head to the woods for squirrels. About midmorning walk the mile to the store as I approached the front door there would be a line of guns leaning against the wall outside the stores door. I would place mine there and go inside, get a coke and candy bar if I had the change and proceed to the back of store where all the other local kids had gathered by the pot bellied stove. We would tell tall tales about how big a squirrel we shot or the big buck we flushed out while hunting for little while. Then one by one we would all meander out grab our guns and head back to our next adventure until we had to be home. Never giving a thought about anything happening to all those guns leaned against the wall in plain view while inside.
Us kids would get together every Saturday and go rabbit hunting on Papa's place as everyone called him. We would designate who would be the rabbit dogs and who was shooters. Sometimes only getting couple rabbits sometimes a dozen or more. Then we would head back to the store by 4pm cause we new that's when Mr. Sanders would be there. Mr Sanders was a rabbit hunter but had got up in years close to 90 and couldn't get around to good but still loved rabbit meat. He would buy whatever rabbits we had shot sometimes he payed to much for what we had brought but he wanted to here the tale how each one was taken. Those were some
Good days! Very Good days!
Mr. Sanders lived to be 106, even as I grew older every year I made it a point to shoot rabbits and take them to him for free. He died on the closing day of rabbit season his hunt was over.

 

[ConstitutionCowboy]

Freedoms, like rights, are never lost. They are simply trampled, infringed, taxed, abused, mutilated, distorted, and buried under fees and paperwork by despots who want you, your talent, work ethic, and creativity to serve them. To stay in power, they will take all you have to purchase votes from those willing to sell themselves into political servitude.

That is where we stand. The only cure I can see is to go on strike.

Woody

 

[murphranch]

My grandkids are in Lewisville Tx. They have got in trouble for saying they go shooting with grandpa when they come home for the holidays. There has been some peer feedback they have had to endure as well.
That's how kids are browbeat into submission. Peer pressure is the worst at that age.

Do not let that crap affect those grandkids Dennis. I know you and your stance on this issue and hope they listen Grandpa’s words before they consider listening to some fat butted, vegan fed, man hating Karen. Tell them to stand tall.


Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

 

[Snattlerake]

Freedoms, like rights, are never lost. They are simply trampled, infringed, taxed, abused, mutilated, distorted, and buried under fees and paperwork by despots who want you, your talent, work ethic, and creativity to serve them. To stay in power, they will take all you have to purchase votes from those willing to sell themselves into political servitude.

That is where we stand. The only cure I can see is to go on strike.

Woody

Or use the firearms as they were intended... to correct voting errors.

 

[Snattlerake]

I know I cannot do it now but years ago when my eyesight was only corrected with bifocals I took the Oklahoma concealed carry class. The instructor was going down the line checking targets. "You're ok." "You're ok." "You're ok." "You're ok." then he laid his hand on my shoulder and semi whispered, "You're deadly."

 

[Snattlerake]

My grandpa had quite a bit of land that I hunted as a youth. I remember getting up before daylight, take my 22 or 410 and head to the woods for squirrels. About midmorning walk the mile to the store as I approached the front door there would be a line of guns leaning against the wall outside the stores door. I would place mine there and go inside, get a coke and candy bar if I had the change and proceed to the back of store where all the other local kids had gathered by the pot bellied stove. We would tell tall tales about how big a squirrel we shot or the big buck we flushed out while hunting for little while. Then one by one we would all meander out grab our guns and head back to our next adventure until we had to be home. Never giving a thought about anything happening to all those guns leaned against the wall in plain view while inside.
Us kids would get together every Saturday and go rabbit hunting on Papa's place as everyone called him. We would designate who would be the rabbit dogs and who was shooters. Sometimes only getting couple rabbits sometimes a dozen or more. Then we would head back to the store by 4pm cause we new that's when Mr. Sanders would be there. Mr Sanders was a rabbit hunter but had got up in years close to 90 and couldn't get around to good but still loved rabbit meat. He would buy whatever rabbits we had shot sometimes he payed to much for what we had brought but he wanted to here the tale how each one was taken. Those were some
Good days! Very Good days!
Mr. Sanders lived to be 106, even as I grew older every year I made it a point to shoot rabbits and take them to him for free. He died on the closing day of rabbit season his hunt was over.