Matter of fact I think the youngsters are going in the minority...... at first. It's going to be us old farts that have memories of the way it used to be 40 years ago, just as the way it was our fathers and grandfathers that remember how it used to be before us and so forth.
Going off on a tangent now:
Granted, things weren't perfect back in the 60s, 70s and early 80s - far from it - but we had a hell of a lot more freedoms then than we do now. I can remember getting a shotgun for my 16th Christmas in 1975, then later that day slinging it across my shoulder and proudly walking a few blocks to my best friend's house to show it off. The neighborhood reaction? Smiles, admiration, and congratulations.
I can remember having to do a report in 7th grade English class on something that I was interested in. My subject was ballistics. My grade was an A+ and my teacher asked if he could go skeet shooting with me and Pops the next weekend. He had a beautiful Remington 101 over and under and was a better shot than we were.
I remember when I got out of the Army in 1981 and walking into a sporting goods store and buying a 30-30 to hunt with. In and out of the store in 5 minutes with my new rifle. Matter of fact, I got an email from Mile-Hi last week telling me about a Remington 870 Wingmaster that his Dad just gave him, said it was bought in a liquor store just up the road from us in Escalon in the 1970s. Yup, bought in a liquor store.
I can remember going into Barbour's Bait and Tackle here in Ceres when I was 10 or 12 with Cousin Ronny and buying a half a box of 22LR, the old man counting them out for us, for a quarter and then going to the property across the street and shooting jackrabbits.
And it wasn't just guns - seatbelts in a car were usually found behind the seat, you could buy cigarettes for your folks with a note from them, folks could stop in the middle of a country road and visit without getting tickets for blocking traffic even though there wasn't any, parents could punish their kids without worrying about gov't interference, all the neighborhood markets would let you run a tab until payday, driving kids to school every day for their safety was unheard of, schoolyard arguments were settled with a fistfight after school with the worst injury being a bloody nose, and a man's Word meant something.
How right you are hunting with my single shot 20ga at about 11, walk down the street a block right into the fields and start wabbit hunting.
ReplyDeleteNo SWAT team, no multiple response of police cars.
When an Officer did see ya he usually pulled along side while you were walking and wanted to see the days kill, then commented on how good they were gonna taste, fried or baked.
I fear you are right. I'm in my early 30s and it seems like the people who would rather have freedom than free stuff are thin on the ground. Of course, I'm in a metropolitan area. When I go home, it's the other way around.
ReplyDeleteThe sort that want free stuff also tend to break under pressure, can't delay gratification, and don't take care of themselves physically and mentally. They depend on others for too many things. Hell, one looked at me like I came from Mars when I fixed their toilet. I don't mean I replaced anything, I just put the chain back so the thing would flush. So dealing with that sort, it's not entirely a numbers game, as they are inert from a tactical perspective and still have to eat.
Not trying to tell you that you are wrong (you aren't, by my estimation). Not even trying to tell you that it isn't a raging clusterf&*% out there; it is. But it may be a survivable one yet.
WIII
Best post I've read on the blogs in days..Well done.
ReplyDeleteAnd, I completely agree.
Thank you, Stephen. I do have the occasional lucid moment.
ReplyDeleteAnd yet, you didn't hear about mass shootings back then. It's not the guns, it's the attitudes. Life is cheap, there's no self-respect let alone respect for others. We had more freedoms, and we were raised to respect those freedoms and accept the responsibilities that came with them.
ReplyDeleteI remember going with my best friend to the desert, which was my back yard, we had targets set up, and would shoot bows and rifles and even tried our hand at tossing knives. From the time I was 12-17 this was a normal thing for us growing up, and no one ever said shit about it. Come to think of it, we never had a problem with bullies back then either.
ReplyDeleteMy father would take his used motor oil and coat the dirt road in front of our house to keep the dust down, today the EPA would probably haul him off to prison.
Amen, hiswiserangel.
ReplyDeleteThe biggest problem we have in this country, and world, today is the lack of responsibility. We (the greater We) don't hold ourselves or others responsible for our actions. It's someone elses faul, not mine.
We're screwed. It's pretty much time to hunker down and prepare for the collapse because it only gets worse from here.
Just about the best damn post you've ever done, Ken.
ReplyDeleteI remember those days, too.
If you screwed up, you admitted it, and didn't point fingers at somebody else.
If you got a bad grade in school, you worked harder to raise it instead of lowering the pass/fail score for everybody else.
If you wanted something you saved your money for, or put it on "lay away" where you gave the store $10 a week until you paid for it.
Young people looked up to their elders as having a valuable store of hard-won wisdom to be shared.
Yeah, even though things weren't "perfect" back then, they were a lot better in many significant ways.
I'm 66 and retired. Bought my first handgun at a Holiday gas station when I was at college. Hand cash to the station clerk and he pulls the handgun out from under the counter and hands it to me. You could buy dynamite at the feed store or hardware store. Cash for dynamite and go home and blow out stumps or rocks. I don't know what the hell happened but in no time the bastards regulated everything. Need a permit to burn brush piles or one to bury dead livestock. This has become a nation of power grabbing freaks.
ReplyDeleteYup, nobody paid attention to a 10-year-old with a .22 walking the streets ... those were the simple, enjoyable days full of freedom and responsibility; when seeing a cop meant saying hello, instead of flipping a bird.
ReplyDeleteYeah, it's going to be us old farts, at least intially. I still recall something they taught in the military - hopefuly enough to contribute in some meaninful way.
Thanks for your lucid moment.
Stay safe,
Tino
Yep Ive dusted off my Infantry and MP training from the 90's. It's going to have to be us older ones first, the ones from this generation will need leaders, and the only ones worth a damn are fighting oversees. Let's hope they remember/understand their oath.
ReplyDeleteAfter the Spring or so of '65, the 60s were lousy, too.
ReplyDeleteNow the early 60s, and the 50s were something else. Someone remarked in passing to me, the Good Old Days really were.
But I agree, anyone born much after '58 really doesn't know how good this country was.
Damn brings back memories!
ReplyDeleteStopping of at a Kohl's Dept store and buying bricks of .22 and boxes of 12ga 8 shot. Went to a landfill and would put out some wet dog food. Head back to the cars and wait for a bit. THEN go down and get a whole mess of rats! Kept track of kills - low man bought the first round afterwards! Damn good times!
Bravo.
ReplyDeleteI remember as well when a mans word meant something.
Good show.
Excellent and posted.
ReplyDeleteTom Huntzinger said - in 1957 my friend and I took a Greyhound bus from Los Angeles to Bishop carrying a shotgun and a .22 Browning SA22 rifle. Called our folks that we had arrived. Camped under the open sky for two weeks in the High Sierra. Then called our folks that we were on our way home. We were juniors in high school and not old enough to drive. We did the same trip for the next two years. Try something like that today!
ReplyDeleteGreat post. One of your best, I think, and it's got some serious competition over the years.
ReplyDeleteI was born before the Baby Boom, and I agree with whoever said if you were born after about 1958 you got the nasty end of it. I well remember things going seriously South around about '68; I've spent the intervening years searching for my country, the one I was born into.
My Dad died in WWII, and I'd hate to think he gave up his life for this shit.
Dang, that grey haired guy looks like me. Same rifle, set up the same way.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if my old field jacket still fits?
It is posts like this that had me start coming to this sight, now it is milfy mondays, truth be told.
ReplyDelete