My former brother-in-law, a Vietnam veteran, is responsible for fanning the coals for me. I always had and loved toy guns as a kid, but he took me shooting for the first time when I was 11. Real guns. A Mossberg 352 and a single-shot 12 ga. The shotgun was not fun in the least, but that Mossberg was a dream come true. Less than a year later I was the proud owner of a Stevens model 34 for my 12th birthday. Guess he gave a favorable report to Mom. I still have that old Stevens and of late, I've wanted to find a Mossberg 352 as well, purely for nostalgic reasons. I saw him for the first time in about 10 or 15 years, a few years ago and told him some of what I have. He seemed amazed. I've missed him over the years, but alas, he and my sister were not meant to be.
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I am the weapon; my gun is a tool. It's regrettable that with some people those descriptors are reversed.