A Shot Heard Around the Yard

My dad inherited an old Western Field 10-Guage shotgun from his mother’s father, who used it for hunting geese. It was ancient. He kept it (unloaded) in the closet of the master bedroom when we lived on Liable Road. It served two purposes, to celebrate Independence Day and New Year Eve.

A day or two before the big holiday, he would take it out and clean it. He had a box of shells hidden (my mother insisted) from sight, but they always appeared when the gun came out.

It was 1979 and I had just fallen head-over-heals in love with my new girlfriend. She was beautiful and I would one day marry her, but that’s another story. We met in April which was close to July and it came and passed as my eyes were smitten and Cupid was shooting arrows in my back. When Christmas came I had rustled up a few dollars and bought her a little Christmas trinket. We were ready to move on to New Year’s Eve. My dad got the shotgun out and cleaned it.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s it snowed almost every day. We accumulated almost a foot by New Year’s Eve. Carrie came by for a rare celebration party at my house. We entertained only on a few occasions. But bringing in a new year was a big deal for my parents. And they were getting a bit smitten by my new girlfriend too.

Carrie came by for dinner and we all stayed up late in the living room sharing stories and laughing with each other. Before I knew it, the clock was racing towards midnight. My dad excused himself and went in back for the gun. He arrived back in the living room with a heavy coat on and announced he was going to go out in the side yard and do his bi-annual duties. Carrie stood up with interest and I went for our two coats. We gathered in the snow. Midnight was here. He raised the gun into the air and fired it. The sound was deafening.

“Your turn”, he turned towards me with shotgun extended. I dreaded this. One, it hurt like hell on the shoulder when you shot it, and two, if anything goes wrong and I embarrass myself in front of my girlfriend I will simply be mortified. I reached out and accepted the celebrated goose-killing-machine.

There is a phrase called Muscle-Memory. Essentially, it is the ability to reproduce a particular movement without conscious thought, acquired as a result of frequent repetition of said movement. I know this concept well. I’ve played piano most of my life. When I get lost in the music, the music fills my mind and my mind moves the music around to my liking. I have no recognition of my hands or fingers. The muscle memory I was experiencing now was one of intense shoulder pain. This 10-gauge had a kick to it like no other firearm I have used. A goose might die but my shoulder was black and blue for a week.

I pulled the gun from his hand giving him a look that said how glad I was to be doing this. I got into my shooting stance and raised the gun. With no target in sight, I simply aimed at a nighttime star. I paused for a few moments, double checking my best prepared footing and enjoying the last few moments of an uninjured right shoulder. “BANG!!!”

The kick was intense and the pain was instant. But more importantly, I held my ground and looked like a man who knew what he was doing and strong too. I glanced with a forced smile at Carrie. She had not noticed the fear and pain I was hiding. I lowered the firearm and handed it back to my dad. This episode is over.

“My turn!” Carrie announced. WHAT? NO! This is a bad idea. I pleaded with her explaining how forceful the kick is when fired. It was one of the first times I learned how stubborn she could be (still is). My dad joined in with me but despite our recommendations, she eventually won and took the gun into hand. She looked so small and vulnerable at that moment. She raised the gun to the night sky. Her stance was all wrong. “Carrie, you have to stand like this,” I said, showing her a proper shooting posture. She aimed into the low sky directly at the moon. I thought that was a good target and wondered why I had not done the same.

She was facing the eastern forest behind the house. The shell would drop into the wooded area, safely away. She pulled the trigger…

I have moments in my life that fall into slow-motion like a Hollywood movie effect. This was one of those moments. The sound was deafening. The light emitting from the barrel end was bright against a cloudless night sky. The rest of the scene was about my girlfriend.

True to its warning, the kick was terrifyingly strong. It lifted Carrie’s body into the air and threw her almost ten feet back. She landed back on Earth protected by a foot of moist heavy snow. The shotgun flew another ten feet behind her, slicing into the snow surface and disappearing. I ran to her and bent down. She was laughing. Yeah, I want to marry this one.

My dad appeared at her other side as I was helping her up. She was okay, maybe a little bruised, but okay. He dug into the snow and pulled the firearm out. I could hear my mother in a distant window yelling at my dad to stop playing around with that old rifle and get back into the house before someone gets hurt. We collected ourselves, wiping snow off and trampled back in. Everyone inside had watched the scene and were gathering around Carrie to get her side of the story.

I followed my dad into the back of the house to the master bedroom. He opened the closet door and set the shotgun against the back closet wall. It fell apart into six pieces. He closed the door. Another day perhaps.

I checked Carrie’s shoulder. It was going to be a good mark for sure. She smiled and dismissed it.

Happy New Year!

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