Dad’s Gun

Years ago, I was given Dad’s original Belgium made Browning rifle that can shoot slugs or shot depending on the barrel. As a child, dad took me bird hunting. I would act as the bird-dog. A pathetic one as it turns out, but these are the things of fond memories. It was on one of these outings that I drank my first cup of coffee, loaded with cream and sugar. I was instantly hooked on the flavor (it turns out Sanka was decaf).

I had a friend take it apart and clean it. We moved to Idaho and it has sat in the closet ever since. Yesterday though, it found a new home on the wall in my office.

Just another wonderful reminder of dear ol’dad.

Comments are closed.