Ever since I was a kid, I’ve liked activities that involve hitting a target with accuracy. When we used to go to amusement parks, I’d ignore the rides and head for the target range.
My Pop had a 22 rifle that he used for target practice and he taught me and my sister how to use it. It was a lightweight gun, and fairly easy to handle. Pop used to write a soap opera for radio and he had saved the recordings of the episodes, called test pressings, to use as our targets. They were large red plastic records and he would nail one to a tree and let us have a go at it. This was one of the most fun things I ever did growing up, and I got to be pretty good at it, too.One time Pop’s friend Frank came to visit and brought a bigger gun than Pop’s 22. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it, but Pop said it was too big and heavy and had a kickback. I swaggered around, insisting I could handle it until they finally gave in. Of course the minute I pulled the trigger I landed on my butt, much to Pop and Frank’s amusement and my embarrassment, but even that didn’t ruin my love of target practice.