I thought I'd tell ya'll about a friend of mine. His name is Duane. He lived down the street from me, and I met him after his wife saw me plowing some driveways in the neighborhood with my fourwheeler and asked if I would plow hers. I am always happy to help, and I love to ride the thing anyway, so off I went.
Duane came out while I was plowing and told me I had to come in for coffee when I was done. Right away we hit it off, as like me Duane was an avid shooter and handloader. I must have spent most of the afternoon in his loading room, learning much and enjoying the companionship of a man far more experienced than I in the art of handloading, and one eager to share his knowledge. He cast his own boolits, too. I was looking forward to learning that craft from him when I got home from Afghanistan.
Duane and I spent a good deal of time together after that first meeting. I showed him my loading station, crammed down in my crawlspace under the house and he gave me some of his cast boolits for my 450 Marlin, as well as my first cast load data for same. I took him along to two gun shows in our area shortly before I left for Afghanistan. Duane was a disabled/retired man whose children had all left the nest. He told me many stories of his fond memories hunting with his sons, and we discussed the merits of all manner of weapons.
I was greatly saddened to hear recently from my wife that Duane had taken his own life back in July. I never knew he was hurting - he never gave any sign. I suppose I'll never understand why he chose to die that way, but I will always remember Duane and his friendship.
I still have a few of the 500 gr. gas check boolits cast by Duane. They will be loaded with care, and they will be the first round in the chamber of my Marlin 1895 when I'm out hunting Moose or bear, until they are gone.
Rest in peace, Duane.
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