I Couldn't Resist

[JohnH]

I figure this topic has been covered in several ways over time, but in some private messaging with another member, I realized that the way I was raised had as much if not more influence over my starting to cast as any other part of me.

My Dad passed away this past Christmas, he was an engineer in his working life, raised in the depression he was unable to throw anything away, and drug home all the junk he could that others threw away that even looked remotely useful. The first couple of cars I owned were mechanics specials resurreceted from the junk yard. 5 years ago I built the house we are living in, utilizing at least 60% salvaged materials to do so. Dad was one of the most "do it yourself" people I have ever met, and he infected me with it, perhaps deeper than I'll ever fully realize.

As a kid I loved guns and shooting. I couldn't wait for my cousins to come come visit us from the city, they always brought their guns and we always shot up a lot of ammo. There is not an aroma as unique or pleasent as a fresh fired paper shot shell....smells like heaven.

Life and a steady income caught up with me, and I began buying firearms, in fact my 18th birth day present to myself was a Stevens falling block 22 LR and an H&R 20 guage. After marrying, having a kid and our own place, I began reloading and reading every gun rag I could buy, beg or borrow I noticed there were a lot of articles about casting.

Man was that for me. I had purchased a 36 Navy copy, typical of any to be found in most any gunshop that will stock 'em and feeding the thing with lead ball cast from that silly brass mold (HOT, HOT, HOT!!!!) that was melted from old phone cable jacket (given me by older memebers of the shoting club) was probably the most fun I ever had.

My next mold was a Lyman 148 grain wad cutter (no idea the mold number) I kept a Model 10 S&W 38 well supplied with bullets cast from wheel weights we would gather up from a nearby junk yard. 3 of us would spend a day wandering through prying of weights from every wheel we could find. Course a lot of other lead was given to us and over time the guns I was feeding grew.

As time has passed I have had to sell and rebuy my guns and equipment a couple of times. I'm currently in my 3rd "rebuild" if you would, but casting equipment has always been with me, adn I don['t have a gun I don't have at least one mold for.

From time to time I consciously miss Dad, I miss meandering in the junk yard, I miss begging him not to bring that peice of junk home, we'll never use it. I miss shooting with him. I miss him showing up with a milk jug full of wheel weights, and his grin as he'd say "I brought these down for ya John." There was always a catch, and I'd have to go help him unload another copier, or single cylinder Wisconson engine (more often a block and head, a crank if you were lucky) What are you going to do with that????? "Oh I'll sell it at the hit and miss engine show next month...." "If we're lucky Paul, if we're lucky" "You still spending money on them guns????" No more than your junk here Dad, no more than your junk.

I miss my Dad. Guess I'll have to cast up a few for him.

[PatMarlin]

What a great story.

And you are indeed lucky to have such a Dad.. ;-)

[Buckshot]

...........John, great story. Your dad sounds like mine in a lot of ways. My dad was born in 1927 (still going strong BTW) on a farm in Weiner, AR. Weiner didn't sound good to them so they put Otwell on his birth certificate. Both places a bit north of Jonesboro.

The farm was a full section, and they raised all sorts of stuff. He had several brothers and sisters, and still has 2 sisters living. One younger and one older. He said they never had much cash but always had plenty to eat and he doesn't ever recall needing anything he didn't get. But back then, you didn't need a whole lot. Only heat in the house was the kitchen wood range for many years. The bathroom was outside too.

He and his brothers had to get up early to milk when they had a bunch of milk cows. Then pour the milk into those tall 5 gallon milk cans. Then haul them up the long driveway, across the state highway and set them on the platform for the milktrain. Then off to school. He was honest enough to say a bus picked them up so it wasn't a 10 mile trek, uphill both ways in a blizzard!

His graduating class had 18 in it. Ten boys and eight girls. All the boys ended up being successfull in life. He has generated a philosophy that society would be a much better place today then it is, if all kids were raised on a farm until they were 18. He says if we have another great depression it will be terrible becuase people today have no values, no dignity, and no self worth and don't have a clue. He recalls groups of men traveling together and his dad always gave them work and they got fed for it, but cash was tight. He said they never had any problems, but didn't doubt there might have been trouble with some lawlessness or thievery, but they never experienced it. He said the men singly or in groups were always grateful.

The only trouble one time was that the Cotton Belt RR was paying $1 per tie, delivered, and there were groups out cutting ties, and they got on grandpas property. He said grandpa let them finish the ones they'd started but the other trees they'd cut down were off limits. Said they didn't like it but they did as told and that was that.

They had a dripgas well on the place, so most of the equipment ran on it. Had to start it on gasoline but you'd switch over when it was warmed up and running. They had an old Chevy car and he said he remembers in the winter they'd wad up newspaper and put it under the intake manifold and set it on fire in order to get the car started, and that was with gas! There water came from a well about 15 ft from the back door and it would freeze. So they'd wire newspaper to ti and pour kerosene on it and set it afire. When the handle was cool enough to touch he said you'd pump and fill everything you could, because it'd freeze up again pretty soon.

Dad is a very fine man. He was pretty strict with us kids and there wasn't a lot of foolishness in him, but we still had lots of fun. He was the one to stop at fruit stands or the Dairy Queen for ice cream cones, which would surprise mom no end. He is one that does what he says he will do, and he doesn't run his mouth very much. There were 3 of us boys and I remember him getting mad once because mom spent $25 on groceries for the week! THey had a thing they called a budget :D

He was a great builder and I swear he can do anything. He built a room on to the house, and extended 2 other's, doing the foundation, plumbing and wiring, roof and all himself. Or he was laying brick for walls, or he was helping the neighbors do the same. He had no room for TV so us kids got to watch 3 hours at night and that was it. Weeknights or weekends, 3 hours and it went off. Turned us all into great readers though! One time he threatened to make us boys dig a hole in the back yard and bury it. We must have been complaining about wanting to watch something.

They moved to Sierra Vista, AZ a couple years ago, and he wanted a shop in the back. He built a 18x24 foot building. Mom said when the inspector came to sign off the slab he asked dad who the contractor was. Dad said he'd done it. Mom sent us photo's of the forms and then when the mixer was delivering the cement, and there was pop out in the middle of it shoveling cement. I asked mom if dad had hired laborers for the fountation work. She said nope, you know your dad. 75 years old (at the time) and out there dig, dig, dig!

Whatta guy!

.............Buckshot

[9.3X62AL]

Great stories!

My Dad went over the Great Divide just a few days more than 11 years ago, and I miss him greatly. He was never a handloader or bullet caster, but supported my activities in that venue pretty strongly. I started with shotshells at age 16, and he was great about buying the primers and powder in those post-GCA '68 days. I don't think he understood why I'd sweat and spend time cranking out home-rolled shotshells when they could be had for 2 bucks a box at the big discount houses, but after using some of my 1-1/4 oz. 12 gauge loads on pheasants and ducks, he wouldn't use anything else. "Those loads hit like a ton of bricks, Al!" He was NOT HAPPY to see non-toxic shot become required in the early 1980's, and couldn't abide shooting the stuff in his fine old Model 12 Heavy Duck that he used for everything--doves to honkers. He bought a "cheapie" Winchester 1300 for waterfowl for both the steel shot and the salty corrosive environment of the Salton Sea, one of the few departures from his "one gun does everything" mantra.

As I transitioned to reloading metallics in the late 1970's, he was real interested in seeing me get the 30-06 caliber up and running. He had INCREDIBLE eyesight, and never put a scope on a rifle he owned. He ran A LOT of handloaded Sierra 150's through his 1948-vintage M-70, which now is in my nephew Joshua's gun safe. He came over to my house more than once while I poured boolits, and was fascinated by the castings piling up. He shot some of them from time to time, mostly #311291's from a 30-30 I always had laying around, and he could make that rifle TALK. He wasn't real fond of handguns, but could operate them real well. I got a clue about his distaste for sidearms while shooting a Colt Series 70 45 ACP I had years ago. I loaded the pistol up and handed it to him, and he deftly caused the beer cans we were shooting at to dance and leap. He ran about 4 magazines' worth of hardball through the pistol, and handed it back, saying "That's the first time I've picked one of those things up since Korea, son. Thanks." He was kinda misty-eyed, so I know there was a story there. He never elaborated, and I thought better of prying.

[Willbird]

My Father passed away in 1986, he was 46 and I was 21. He taught me a lot in those 21 years, I still stop and wonder "what if" he was still here.

Earliest memories shooting wise were of him casting bullets, mostly for the K32, those would be Lyman full wadcutters...He taught me how to run a lathe, and a mill, and a shaper, lots of other machinest things too, mostly he taught me to use my head tyo solve a problem, Dad only paid for a few things to be done on a car...stuff like mounting and balancing tires, and exhaust work, the rest we did. And that has paid me handsomely, some folks insist their time is worth too much to work on cars, but do the math some time on 30 dollars or more per hour, for maintenence and repairs over the 24 years I have been driving...I can't make that at time and a half even, and it is tax free money your paying yourself.

Dad left me a couple nice lathes....couple nice bridgeports...lots of loading gear and a whole pile of neat guns, he also left me with an education in 4 position smallbore rifle, 3 position high power rifle, and target pistol skills...all of that before 18 yrs old.....

he left me with a feel for "nice" equipment and machines (guns are machines too)............the cheapest was for sure not always the best in his world.

Darn shame in some ways is he did not take the time to teach me to hunt, and fly fish, those things he shared and loved with my grandad before he passed.....I'm not sure if he laid them down then, or did not have time, or what....

I recently followed in my fathers and grandfathers shoes and was raised to the sublime degree of master mason, in the way they did, it was work, I could have taken a "one day class" but darn it dad did it, and grandad did, so so could I...

I think there were moments between 1986 and now that Dad would not have been proud of me, but if he had lived from then til now he would be proud of how it has all worked out.

if you have kids just stop to think for a moment what you will have left them if today is your last one, Dad didnt know when he woke up June 10 1986 that he was not going to see sunset, He lived a good life, and I do not think he was waiting for the "good part" like some of us do...but I do think if he had known, he would have left more and done more while he had time.

Bill