Part Two
By Dawn Cherie Littlefield Andrew (1st born daughter)
Here is part two of stories of George. If you missed part one, here it is.
Daddy’s Greatest Hunt
My daddy was a simple man who loved the great, adventurous outdoors. He enjoyed life to the fullest during his brief time of 40 years. He would work his eight-hour day as a machinist and then come home to a number of hobbies depending on the season. You would find him in the garage or shed tinkering away. He always could find something to do out there. It was a solace place, just him and his tinkering, unless, of course, his young three children would come out to play! And then who knows what he was getting done.
During the fall, I believe to be his favorite; you would find him outdoors in northeastern Oklahoma scouting out the tracks of the white-tailed deer. He would spend countless hours just looking for them before the actual hunting season began. As his eldest daughter, I was invited to go a few times about the age of 5. Even today, I find and see deer tracks when in certain areas, maybe it’s because I’m short and closer to the ground.
Then opening day would come and he would be out there ready to shoot one. Usually, sometime during the season, he would come home with a doe or buck propped up in the back of his green pickup truck. He would have a grin on his face and would be pleased with his kill.
One year, daddy decided to get a license for mom also, which mom was the only one to get a deer that year. I don’t remember mom ever getting any more deer.
Daddy became a master of skinning and cutting up the meat himself. I remember in my younger years, of a get together at the house with his other friends and getting out the hand crank meat grinder to grind up some of the meat for ground venison.
At other times of the year, bird (dove, quail, ducks, or geese), squirrel, or rabbit hunting was a challenge to see how many he would bring home. It didn’t matter what the kill was, daddy seemed to love it all. It was a challenge!
During the spring and summer, he would pack up his tackle box and poles and head to one of the many area lakes; Hulah, Copan, Oologah, Hudson, Bar-Dew. It was a great, relaxing time even if nothing was brought home. There are many memories of camping as well, however, there are too many tales to share here. He did so love the outdoors.
During the spring of his last year of life, he talked of going bear hunting in Colorado the upcoming fall. His illness had already taken over and the end was near, but he still dreamed and talked about it. He thought it would be the ultimate. Excitement would be all over his face as he shared about what it would be like to go and kill one. As a hunter, it is the pure pleasure of preparing for the hunt and journey as much as it is the actual hunt. Don’t get me wrong, the hunt is the ultimate, but talking and preparing for it mentally is just as important. The journey begins in the dreaming, sharing, and planning. The hunt is the culmination of all the hard work for the journey.
Maybe it helped him in coping with leaving his family. I always believed he would say those things for the benefit of his three kids. The LORD called him home that early summer. He didn’t get to go to Colorado to bear hunt, but I have always truly believed in the fall he went on the greatest bear hunt of his life in heaven.
Daddy Buys a Gun and Holster
At age seven, March 29, 1952, the fascination with a gun and holster begins. Probably before that, but this is the time daddy made it real. He worked hard saving every penny so he could buy his own gun and holster. A dream most young boys had in that era.
Being in a small town, meant the gun and holster set was only at the store in the bigger town. It would mean he probably saw it at the store and looked to see how much money he would need so he could start saving before they were all gone.
Whatever the case, he started saving his own money, which could have taken some time. Maybe, though, he got some money for his birthday which was in early January that year, or for Christmas a week or so before his birthday. It would give him a good start. Not sure how he earned his money at seven years of age, but he did.
Finally, he had enough and was able to make his big purchase. It cost him $3.50 to buy his own gun and holster. He was mighty excited with his new belongings. He strapped the holster on with the gun inside, place a cowboy hat on his head and donned a pair of gloves, escaping outside to play. His imagination took him to a gun fight where he was the victor. He would spend hours with his gun and holster, pretending to shoot the animal or get the bad guys.
Many years later his fascination with owning his own gun, although a toy gun, would lead to owning many real guns, including making at least one or two of them. He taught all of his children to be responsible in the presence of a gun, and also how to operate and handle one with safety. And he taught them how to shoot correctly.
He even made his own gun shells and had all the reloading equipment to make them. His eldest daughter remembers at a young age, helping him in the garage while at the work bench. It was her job to put the primer in its place while he would prepare and do the rest. Pull down on the lever, and you have a gun shell ready for shooting. And then the process would begin again. All the different things would need to be in their place and measured exactly for the appropriate size and make of the gun shell.
Did his parents know at the time of his interest of buying his own gun and holster, it would lead to owning many more and even making his own shells? Who knows? Several years later, there are memories of a dad and son with a pheasant and several quails from a hunting trip.
Nov 1961 Dad with friend Gary and his dad, Warren
Nov 1961, Dad with his dad, Warren
Maybe his dad owned several guns also because it was taught and passed on from one generation to the next. Daddy taught and then gifted his own son many years later the majority of his collection. The fascination continues.
I hope you have enjoyed these stories of George. I found it healing and fun to think and write these stories. Maybe there will be some new ones coming. We will have to wait and see.
Until next time . . .