Well, not to spoil the seriousness of that post, but my fondest and best memories are those with a spot of spontaneous humor attached ... even if it's only funny later.
My maternal grandfather was a Baptist Southern Minister. An Evangelist. He ministered to migrant fruit industry workers and anyone else he could reach with the Word in Florida for 63 years. Lewis E. "Pop" McRae was a fourth generation descendant of a Scottish Emigrant from The Highlands and a Rifle in the Continental Line. A proud Scot.
Pop McRae was a shotgun deer hunter and loved to hunt birds. It was he that taught me that the ultimate firearm for survival in the wild is the shotgun. I was 9 yrs old when this story unfolded. We were in the woods all morning and had seen nothing but squirrels and birds. Since we were hunting deer, it was a fine time but not productive for the reason we were there. Pop suggested we go into town to get lunch and stop by the zoo and he would show me how to stalk a lion.
This was the town of Orlando in the year 1956. After a sandwich at the drugstore, where Pop let me have a cup of coffee (a special treat for a young'un those days!), and off to the zoo. As we neared the lion's cage, Pop McRae held me back with one hand and started a crouching approach. As he came within a couple of yards of the edge of the lion's cage, he began to rise slowly to his full 6' 6" height and take on the stance of a shooter taking aim.
I should point out that Pop always wore a tie. Always. That day he wore a brown cotton hunting shirt with a black tie.
As he moved within two yards of the lioness that he was stalking, she slowly, disdainfully, turned away and slooowly raised her tail and just as he said "Pow!", she said "Shooosh!" ... A stream of lioness urine as big as a garden hose shot out through the bars and caught Pop McRae, Baptist Preacher, smack in the chest!
I was speechless. And that was good, because Pop had enough to say for the both of us. Off to the men's room he went, stripped down and washed everything he had on in the sink and came out completely wet. He walked over to the cage where he had been bagged and got real close to the railing, leaned over, practically in the lioness's face and stared for a long time ... "BOOM!", he fired! She flinched and blinked. He was satisfied. I didn't know what to think. She got up and walked to the nearest part of the cage to Pop and started to turn around ... Pop grabbed me by the arm and beat a hasty retreat, "Stupid beast!"
I think she had his number.
