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who's been shot?


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Posted

It was my wife's idea that I build the shed for her mom. Finally I said OK...Then came the "orders"... 3/4 marine plywood floors and gables. The gable ends need to be steeper. Use galvanized nails, bolts. Are you sure you don't want to pour a foundation? "If you don't like how I do it...you can always build it yourself."

Posted
"If you don't like how I do it...you can always build it yourself."

"...or better yet, go ahead and go that route." Would have been my next words. Picked up my hammer and headed for the truck.

Posted

Anyone been shot? Stabbed? Wrapped in the bed sheets, doused in lighterfluid, set on fire, and had the fire put out with a red hot castiron skillet? (the fire goes out with the whack but ignites again when the skillet is picked up) Any takers?

Guest BenderBendingRodriguez
Posted
I really enjoyed turning bowls until it became a job. After that I lost all interest in turning bowls for fun.

Dolomite

They say the easiest way to make someone hate something they love is to pay them for doing it. I would imagine it's even easier if you make it their job and then don't pay them.

Posted (edited)
They say the easiest way to make someone hate something they love is to pay them for doing it. I would imagine it's even easier if you make it their job and then don't pay them.

My wife is forever wanting me to charge for the favors I do in the neighborhood. I think she keeps a tally of what I'm giving away...why do I think that?...Because she's forever bringing it up!

Ya know...If we didn't need 'em to breed...we'd have hunted them out by now.

Edited by bajabuc
Guest J.D. Skull
Posted

Aint that the truth! :)

Posted

My mom was never too attached to me as a child, so Saturdays I got a quarter and sent to one of two places. either I could take my quarter and go to the Saturday afternoon mattinee. I could line up with all the kids in town, pay my 9 cents to get in, spend 15 cents fro the BIGGEST box of buttered popcorn, and march my way down to the very front row of red velvet seats and seat myself as close to the center as I could get and "oooh" and "aah" over the antics of the Marx brothers: 15 minutes. The Three Stooges: 15 minutes. Spanky and Our Gang: 15 minutes. Bugs Bunny or Mick Mouse: 7 minutes. The Movietone News: 7 minutes. Rocketman: 12 minutes. And two 70 minute B Westerns.

Or...I could take that quarter, walk three blocks past the theater and enter the sacred marble halls of our local trainstation, pay twenty cents and get a round trip ticket to Durand 55 miles east, or Lowell 45 miles west on the Grand Trunk RR. My dad was prosecutor and I knew almost everyone in town (well...let's just say, EVERYBODY knew me) so either way I was pretty safe. The conductor would pass me on to the stationmaster who would make sure I got on the train going back to my town.

The conductor, in his blueblack suit with the shiny sterling silver buttons, and leatherbilled cap with the silver chainbraid would make his immortal cry, "All Aboard?", he would swing his red lantern up and down amd step into the vestabule, pull his watchchain, retrieve his Hamilton Standard Time Pocket watch and pop the lid. He'd check the time, nod his head and shoo me to my seat. "Go sit down, Mr Austin. There's a good lad." OR...on MAGIC days, he would say, "Mr Austin, Charlie would appreciate your company in the Caboose," where I would sit in the cupola and sip a free 6 oz coke and watch the trees and farms glide by. The absolute best times were in the Fall when the trees were in their best suits and the rivers were clear. A rail bridge is a spooky thing when you're in the cars: it's a sudden closeness and flashing and you're off and blinking...From the cupola on the caboose it's something you see coming from a long way off and you can get ready...It's . right . up . there! so close it looks like it's going to cut the coupola off, and you with it. ClicketyclackClicketyclackClicketyclack and the sudden sway and thump as the car crosses the points. The smoke from the stack stretches back behind the train or blows sideways on windy days. On calm days the smoke looks like it's chasing you (if you have that kind of imagination) and it's coming closer and closer until you burp and turn around. Charlie doesn't like boys who get backwards riding sick. If you look at a map, the GTRR looks really straight, stretched like a string between two nails....it's not. It twists and turns..not much, just enough to keep an 8 year old boy interested.

For 10 miles or so on both sides of town the track is close to the highway. My dad used to get a kick out of racing the train. "Racing? "my mom would ask. "If you're racing why are we going 30 miles an hour? Charles, you have cars lined up behind you for miles. Would you please get a move on!" Sometimes he would stop in Ovid and take us to the Sweetshoppe and buy us all sundays. I never did get that "sundays" bit...we always did it on Saturday. I asked Mom and she said ask your dad and he said, "You'll know the reason when you have kids of your own." He was right...it's exactly what I told my kids!

I got to ride "upfront" once. On the last trip for the steamer. I didn't know it was the last trip until I went to the station the next Saturday and there was a mundane stinky Diesel instead of the Black and Red Steamer. I walked back up the hill and went to the movie.

On the last trip, the Conductor took me to the cab of the engine. He climbed up and spoke to the engineer...I actually think money might have changed hands. I remember the engineer looking down at me, shaking his head. He spit a stream of plug tobacco juice that would make a mule proud. Still shaking his head...his eyes got big...he nodded, and the fireman got down and helped me climb all - the - way - up. "Mr Austin. This is Mr Blankenship. Mr Blankenship, this is David. David, Mr Blankenship. He'll look after you today." The really strange part about the introductory exchange between the adults is they were crying. Not sobbing...just wateryeyed, and blowing noses and wiping eyes with big red handkerchiefs.

I don't think I can write anymore.

Posted (edited)

The last passenger steamer was when I was 15, 1957. The cost had skyrocketed. 2.50 cents RT. The Conductor still watched out for me. I've been looking at the old news stories about the town and the RR. They mentioned the Steel Hotel

My great great great great grand grand grand Aunt Aurela Crain was killed in an arson fire that burned the Steel Hotel to the ground. Mr. Crain was my who knows howmany back Grand Father. He was 98...she was 16 and she was cute. She was my grandfathers fifth wife.

He lived to 103 so she would have been 21 when he died. I met her the first time when she was in her 70's. Amazing woman. She used to put jigsaw puzzles together upside down...then she'd glue paper to the completed puzzle and turn it over to see if it all fit. Jo and I used to go see her when we were in town. I was shocked to hear of the fire.

Edited by bajabuc
Posted

Gar...I'll tell you what bothers me.

I was so damn sure that I was about 12 on that last train ride. Getting old sucks!

Sam Clemens said it best. "It's what you know for sure that just ain't so that gets you."

Posted

well, probably been discussed and is the closet thing I got but..

been shot from about 60 yards away with birdshot on a quail hunt. peppered so not a big deal. Been shot at 2 other times. Once was at a club in memphis when a fight got out of hand and a drunk pulled out a 38 and started shooting at the crowd. Bullet hit the ceiling about 3 foot over my head. Then again while leaving a party in "cold water" mississippi. Apparently the farmer out there got tired of kids getting drunk and running through his fields. We were not the ones doing it but we were the closest things he could get pissed off at and fired a few rounds at us. He chased us down to the end of the field but we ended up getting to the road before he did and we lost him once we got to the dirt road. good times

Guest Bronker
Posted
You got to start somewhere!

'Here' is not a good place. Buc is dangerous.:rolleyes:

Posted

I caught a .308 to the ribs a while back. I posted about it on here.

Not fun. Awesome scar though.

Mike

Posted

Baja, I started reading the train post, thinking you'd be a rich man if you'd only kept all those silver quarters.

But by the end, I realized it's the memories that are priceless.

Posted

My brother kept the quarters...he went to work at the age of 14 as a soda jerk, when he graduated from highschool he went to work as a rodman...when he'd been doing that 10 years he had Seventy Five Thousand Dollars in the bank. He got drafted and ended up playing in a military band until the Base Sargent Major said, "You WILL sell me your 1963 Split Window Corvette for 100$ or I WILL have you shipped to Vietnam. You are restricted to the base." Somehow he managed to get the car sold to a dealer who had to go through a lawsuit to collect it. Poor old Chuckie was shipped to Hawaii where he had to partake of that funhouse called "POW School" They broke his collarbone on the first day. Off to the hospital with you, Chuckie me lad. 3 weeks and back to POW School...they broke it again. Back in the hospital where it took MUCH longer to heal. He got out of the hospital with 89 days left on his sheet. You had to have 90 to be extended for 'Nam. He went back to work as a rodman and played with some big band on weekends. In the entire time he worked as a rodman he never took a days vacation or had a single sickday. The state, in their wisdom said, "You can onlt accumulate 30 days and nothing else counts. If you have more than 30 days due, you must begin to take it before sush and such date. The state always paid for employees to go to school. He took his accumulated vacation and went to school. 4 years, 3 months and 16 days later he returned to work after graduating from U of Michigan. No one knew who he was. Oh...it gets better. He started his vacation time as a rod man...when he got out he was a registered surveyor. He jumped from 7,500 to seventy five thousand...and ...no one knew who he was...I thought I'd die laughing.

Posted

He'd worked for them 26 years and had over 40 months of vacation and sick time coming...in the 40 months he accrued the rest of his school time. The state made some more changes after that mess. The way he put it...he started out with 2 weeks...then 3 weeks... then a month...then 6 weeks and finally 2 months. State employees can only take 2 weeks in the summer now...the rest has to be in the rest of the year.

  • 4 months later...
Guest kdud03
Posted

well i guess i can now add to the been shot list....

i went to the range a few weeks ago with my grandpa to shoot some bolt actions. i took along my ar15 since he hasnt shot one before besides when he was in the military which was wen the m16 first came into service. i was shooting at a paper target an had a failure to feed. i cleared the round and continued. at the end of the mag i ask Papa if he picked the ftf round up as i was looking for it on the ground. he said ya an handed it to me. after inspection i put it in the gun. it the bolt release as the empty mag was still in the magwell. i aimed at the 25 yard target i had been shooting at an then decide hell i will shoot that still gong beside it. well i hit the gong alright. bounced back an got me it the left bicep. didnt hurt an didnt really bleed. still got the bullet in my arm an a healing wound. this was the last shot of the day an then we wer gonna load up an come home. we still loaded up an instead went to the hospital. i probably wont be shooting any more steel targets. i have shot that gong 100's of times but no more!

Posted

About 20 years ago I caught a round from an AK at the hairline. It traveled about an inch and a half under the skin and exited. You can still feel the groove in my skull.

Guest kdud03
Posted

thanks dolomite. dang alley cat. little bit closer call than mine!!

Guest justluck
Posted

@bajabuc

Poor old Chuckie was shipped to Hawaii where he had to partake of that funhouse called "POW School"

WOW, you triggered some "fond" memories there. Been there done that.

Guest drv2fst
Posted

Ok, I'll play, if you will allow stories about family members.

My uncle was occasionally abusive to my aunt. He had a very impressive gun collection in a display case in the living room. All guns loaded all the time and never a lock on the case. He came home drunk again and hit her. She grabbed a gun from the case and shot him twice in the chest. Still standing but now much more sober he asked her to call for an ambulance. She refused and ripped the phone off the wall so he could not call either (this was before cell phones). He demanded she drive him to the hospital and he refused and threw the keys to his truck out into the yard and told him "drive yourself". He did.

When questioned by the police about who shot him, he told them what happened. They said they would go arrest her and he told them not to. When pressed for why, he replied "I had it coming and she obviously still loves me". The LEO was confused and said "still loves you? She tried to kill you!". Harold (my uncle) said "no, I had plenty of guns there that would have killed me, she picked this small (.22, .25, or .32 not really sure) gun to shoot me with so she still loves me." No charges were ever filed and they stayed married for several more years. He never raised a hand to her again.

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