Posted on 06/11/2016 5:21:09 AM PDT by marktwain
Eight years ago, I met the pastor of my brother's church in Northern Wisconsin. Pastor Phil and his wife, Kathy, had answered the call when the church had entered some hard times. His career had started in Chicago. His parents were called to the ministry; his father had been a Marine. The streets that he grew up on in Chicago had an international flavor. There were Greek, Polish, and Germans, and they generally got along. His family did not have any guns, and his lone experience with firearms was an informal couple of shots with a .22 at twilight, in of all places, Maryland. The relative who supplied the rifle was also a Marine. Phil and Kathy were new to the North Woods, and the church was starting with very little.
My mother lived on the land that my parents had purchased before I was born, a couple of miles from Pastor Phil's Church. She required someone to be with her 24/7, and I was one of those who stayed with her, in her home, cooked, helped her in and out of bed, and did all the necessary things that children do for elderly parents.
People who have been in this position will tell you that any assistance can make a large difference. Pastor Phil, and his wife, Kathy, went far beyond what could be expected. They cheered my mother, brought over food, spend considerable time with her and me. There presence was always appreciated, a bright spot in my mother's life. They have said that she was a bright spot in theirs.
They may have spent more time with my mother than I did during those years. They were there all year. I only helped intermittently a month or two at a time. They were rich in spirit, but materially, not much better off than, well, church mice.
They taught me about Christian charity.
I would take a little time while my mother was sleeping to sharpen my shooting skills. I shot from the deck of her house, with a monitor nearby or in my pocket. A long barrelled .22 with standard velocity ammunition is pretty quiet.
Pastor Phil and Kathy had a garden at their new Wisconsin home, and the rabbits would raid it. I arranged to give Phil an old Remington 550. It was old enough to not have or need a serial number. It worked well, and my brother soon had the factory sights dialed in. I supplied a few hundred rounds of .22 ammunition. This was before the great Obama .22 shortage. At some point, a member of the church donated a brick of .22 to pastor Phil.
Phil and Kathy took to the gun culture as if they were born to it. My mother died a couple of years ago, but my friendship with Pastor Phil and Kathy has remained. Their material position has improved as the little church has grown and thrived. On an ordinary Sunday, a few dozen will be in attendance. Phil has taken a toll on the rabbit and squirrel population. At last count, he had stopped the garden predations of 35 of them.
As their modest income increased, Phil purchased a Ruger American rifle and put a scope on it. They acquired two carry handguns and Wisconsin concealed carry licenses. The class for the carry licenses was given at the Church by my brother. 21 people attended. Kathy has been as enthusiastic about their entry into the gun culture as Phil has.
Pre '68?
Lots of pre-68 rifles and shotguns out there without serial numbers.
Love it!! Thank you for posting!
ping on a Wisconsin article.
“Lots of pre-68 rifles and shotguns out there without serial numbers.”
Federal law did not require serial numbers on 22 rimfire rifles or certain shotguns until the Gun Control Act of 1968 took effect.
Before the United States adopted the Model 1873 rifle (”Trapdoor Springfield” in popular parlance) the War Dept did not bother to put serial numbers on military small arms.
Before 1861, a number of gun manufacturers did affix serial numbers to their higher-end products, but hid them: in many cases stamping the digits on areas hidden under the grip panels, or where the stock would cover metal in daily use. Why? Upward-mobility marketing ... custom gunmakers (in truth, that meant every gunmaker on the planet, before the 1830s) sold individually crafted arms. One does not put serial numbers on unique works of art.
The hidden-serial number practice was carried on into the 1930s, in a few instances. Remington and H&R followed the practice with some of their products.
It is not a good idea to post a persons birthday, full name, city and state because it can lead to identity theft.
Thank you for the reminder.
Enjoyable read, thank you.
Beau has his CC. Once my house is sold and I’m more settled out here, I’m getting mine, too.
He bought me a LOVELY Browning 1911 for Christmas. What’s not to love about THAT? ;)
P.S. Keep pinging me, but I’m not sure who has the WI Ping List these days! I had to abdicate my throne last year due to work and family commitments that limited my Freeping.
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