I’ve always loved guns. Some of my best childhood memories are of taking the Diana .177 pellet rifle out to the backyard, setting up a host of tin cans, and blasting away at them until I ran out of pellets. At a rough guess, I was shooting about 500 pellets per week.
It was my first gun, and shooting it gave me a wonderful solitary activity that was only rivaled by my love of reading.
Later, when I was about 14, I graduated to shooting my dad’s Winchester 63 .22:
Compared to .177 pellets, .22 ammo was really spendy for a boy’s allowance (even back then), so I probably only shot off a hundred-odd rounds a week. I did that for the next five or so years, until I bought my first centerfire rifle.
Here, my memory fails me; it was either an Oviedo Mauser in 7x57mm, or else an Israeli Mauser (the K98k, rechambered to 7.62x51mm/.308 Win in the late 1950s).
Whatever, I had both, and used them in my first forays into hunting, which only really began in my mid-twenties — although I would shoot off a few boxes for practice each month (rifle ammo was really expensive in Seffrica, even though by then I was earning a salary).
Then I moved to the U.S., and after I could buy them legally, my love of guns and shooting went stratospheric, and my gun ownership ditto.
Of course, occasional periods of poverty followed, meaning that during those times I was forced to sell a few, and at one time almost all. And that hurt, it really did; but I consoled myself with the thought that when my finances recovered, I could always buy replacements… which I did.
Then quite recently, my desire to own guns kinda tailed off. Most probably, this came from getting to age 70 and the concomitant realization that whereas in the past my appetite for shooting was boundless, now it was more circumspect. Was I ever going to go hunting again? (no, probably not.) Was I going to take up clay shooting? (also, probably not.) I’d long since quit any kind of competitive shooting as my eyesight started its decline, and even the occasional trip to Boomershoot suddenly became less appealing — maybe because of the distance involved, but that had never stopped me before.
So as you all know, when my financial circumstances recently demanded some remedial action, I started selling off my guns to anyone who was interested, keeping pretty much only the ones I could foresee myself using at least quite often (.22 rifles and handguns, etc.) or ones that I might need in certain “social” occasions, if you get my drift.
I at least contented myself with weekly range visits because their senior citizen discount made it affordable, but even those have tailed off, for no real reason. I don’t know why that is; I still love my guns — the few I’ve kept, anyway — but the urge to shoot them, other than for practice, has more or less disappeared.
And I’m certainly never going to restock the larder, so to speak. Those days are definitely gone.
I’ve had many invitations to go shooting with various friends and Readers, and when I’ve taken them up, I’ve enjoyed the range time, but enjoyed still more the after-shoot coffees and so on: the socializing part of the event more so than the shooting, which is a complete inversion of my enjoyment in times gone by.
So something that has been a huge part of my life has gone, maybe forever, and I mourn its passing dreadfully.
Maybe it will come back — I hope it does — but until then, I’m left with this hollow feeling at the disappearance of something that has been part of my entire life.
So now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to read a book.
I turned 70 this past Jan and I can empathize with you. I too am getting old and adjustments are occurring and I’m not happy about it though I am trying.
The ONE time we shot together it was much fun, but the socializing with you and Connie was the highlight of the day. The shooting was just an excuse to get together, as we already knew we were of like minds and interests. I think that was 2007, yikes, was it really that long ago?
Like you, shooting has been fun in and of itself, but it’s always been a social thing with me. I shoot alone now that my son is up in Staten Island and we don’t see him often, but I’m finding it harder to gin up the interest to go to the range alone. I pretty much only shoot with friends. And that far less frequently than it used to be. I’m only a year or two behind you and traveling the same path as our falls turn into winters.
I also think I’m done buying guns. Finally. The last two I bought were silly purchases. One was a “tacticool” version of the Rossi 92 lever gun in .357 Magnum. What was I thinking? I don’t generally like tacticool, my tastes run parallel to yours. That was sold after 50 rounds through it. The other is an Arisaka Type 99 I bought about 2 years ago, and I STILL have not shot it. Do I really need another set of reloading dies? It will be sold without my having fired it. I’m done, I think. I may work with my son to unload the pieces he really is not attached to, leaving him his favorites in the collection when I’m gone.
I also don’t travel any more, another activity we loved in common. That is partly due to finances, I can’t really travel any more, and partly due to the Muzzie infestation that is ruining the world. But partly. Because having not just traveled but having lived abroad quite a bit, that itch has been pretty thoroughly scratched.
I’m blessed to have two grandsons nearby and another in the oven at the moment. THAT is the crowning joy of getting older, maybe the only one. I wish you had grandkids close by. But your love of reading and art, and you many varied interests, and your writing can keep you interested in life as well as the guns did. Life changes. It may not seem as fun, but I’m finding as I learn to accept it, I’m less bitter and happier about the whole circle of life thing.
Do I have fond memories and feel nostalgia for things past? Of course. I was talking about scuba diving with a friend the other day—I still have my gear in the basement, but I realized though I liked to think I’d dive again … it really isn’t likely. I should probably sell my gear. I’ve had probably 150 dives over the years, that itch, too has been thoroughly scratched. And I did a motorcycle ride at my work yesterday with 18 riders. Got to 88 degrees, I was pretty cooked after the ride. If this is not my last season on the bike, next one almost assuredly will be. I feel kind of juvenile keeping it up, actually.
Time will march on, no matter what we think about it. I’m trying to shift my thinking away from frustration at the fact that I’m getting older, and concentrate on things I really enjoy doing now. My grandkids visiting, cooking, cigars books, and revisiting old movies. I’m beginning to come to terms with it, I suppose, and in the effort I find my outlook on life improving.
This is not a “just give up or give into it” sort of musings. In martial arts terms, I’m no longer fighting getting older, the karate way—I’m more trying to roll with it, the Aikido way. Embrace harmony or some such nonsense. But accepting that the circle of life, like gravity, death, and taxes, will not be denied, I’m coming to terms with it. And having a little more fun since I’ve made the shift in my perspective.
We’re all right there with you, my friend.
That was a good read JC, and some what comforting.
I’m with you and JC.
I’m about a decade and a half younger than you and feel pretty much the same way. Gun purchases are once or maybe twice a year and rarely are current production guns purchased. With the cost of ammunition nowadays I try to make my range sessions with center fire cartridges mean something. usually it’s drills and such which can get boring. The .22lr firearms are for fun and practice fundamentals.
A couple of my nephews and my niece in law are getting into firearms so I’m trying to cultivate their interests.
You might like the clays sports because they are very social.
My wife’s uncle really got into blackpowder with some of the folks at his club up north. They’d get together on Sunday mornings, shoot some and jawjack quite a bit. He used to say that they’d be gabbing and then someone would say something to the effect of “well, we’re here so we might as well take a couple of shots.” In the chilly autumn and winter they’d get a burn barrel going with old targets, pour some strong coffee and have a fine time.
Thanks for sharing, nice to know that I’m not alone. 10 years younger than you, but a few of the things that I’ve enjoyed for most of my life, don’t hold the same interest for me. The biggest things are shooting and auto racing. Going to the farm for an afternoon of blasting away is still fun, but doesn’t happen nearly as often as it used to. Cost of ammo, ability to get everyone’s schedule coordinated, time spent with grandkids, etc. Poor vision in one eye and simply not being as accurate is frustrating. I’ve been a fan of dirt car racing since I was a little kid, 50 years ago. Now, sitting in the stands, fighting traffic, sitting by idiots, ticket prices, long racing programs all are bigger disincentives than they were 15 years ago. Easier to sit home and stream the racing I want to watch. Cheaper beer and food and a cleaner rest room.
As our world’s get smaller, you pick the things that really matter. Family, education/history all matter more.
80 in a few month
I will probably sell a few of my guns also, probably keep only the .22 and a .357 Smith maybe the PPK. Remain affiliated only with the range nearby where i can fire those. But I will keep on shoothing as long as I can stay up.
Mid 50’s here, and noticing the same thing. Most of it, believe it or not, is hormonal. You just don’t have the drive for ANYTHING you had in your 20-40’s range. I think we just get bored too, been there-done that, proved I could.
Around my parts because of the influx of assholes from other states, finding a place to shoot, ain’t easy either, and mostly you talk yourself out of it, instead of devoting a day to driving to “somewhere”.
I went to a sporting clay place about a year ago, and man do I suck at wing-shooting. I think the safest place on the range was right in front of my 870, I couldn’t hit anything. Granted it was my first time ever doing that…but it was embarrassing. I came home and thought, “you need to get better at that”, to which my next thought was, “What in the hell for?” I don’t know which side will win out, the sporting clay range close to my house closed because they’re putting in a subdivision, so it’ll likely be the “What in the hell for?”
I’m not a shrink, just a retired dentist – and yes! we all age differently, but listening to you, it sounds more like mild depression.
I kept going to the range (with my Ruger SR1911 10mm) until I was no longer able stand without an aid.
The wifely unit asked “Why?” and the answer was that I use to go out with like-minded friends afterwards (to discuss politics) over a glass of beer (more recently a cup of tea) until yesterday when I handed them (about 30±) down to my son (ammo, reloading equipt, and all).
It was time (finally) – at 85.
Yesterday you told many of us what we already know. There comes a time when the mind is willing, but the body is weak. Trips to the range aren’t the social happy times they used to be. When you need help carrying your weapons to the truck because you can only carry one or two at a time ’cause you have to hold on to your cane with the other hand, when you have to load up on Tylenol before you go shoot, instead of afterwards, because your magnum is kicking your butt these days, when that after-shoot fellowship drink has to be ginger ale instead of anything stronger because your doctor is on your case about your liver numbers, that’s when you know it might be time to let go of this treasured past-time.
I crossed that line about a year ago. Practicing for combat scenarios is gone now. Where I used to hit accurately at assorted distances, now I just worry about what I can hit in my home across a dark room. My small assortment of weapons is now down to two, a magnum (bedside) and a shotgun (hall closet). The rest have found a new home with the son-in-law of a friend. The youngster swore his oath that he won’t sell them, pass them off to anyone who doesn’t truly appreciate the treasures they have, and that he won’t allow Liberal *ssh*le politicians ever to take them away and melt them down.
Like the rest of you, I will keep the memories of past glory, but as some folks say, this old dog caint hunt no more.
And the younger generations don’t give a fuck in the first place….the goddamn commies have won. >:-[
Every time I think I have enough, I see one more I need. I’m 76 and getting more decrepit by the day. Because of a reverse right shoulder replacement last year I cant shoot a rifle, maybe a 22, havent tried. Dr. Said I might be able to shoot from a bench. Why not shoot left handed? Well the retina in my left eye is scarred and a stroke 6 years ago limits my dexterity with left hand. In fact the last time I fired a pistol left handed my trigger finger spasmed and I fired the gun more times than I meant to. Last couple of years have been 22 pistols, all used, from my neighborhood pawn shop. Last month I bought a S&W model 41, the mags just came in from midway. Last december I couldnt decide between a Browning buckmark or colt challenger so he bundled them together and threw out a number- same number he’d paid me for a mini 14 of mine that he’d bought the month before. December 23 I bought a hi-standard 22. I’m letting my PPC gun, my ruger blackhawk and my dan wesson 44 go when I can find a buyer.
Best of many many 22 rifles we had in the house was a Walther pre war single shot training rifle. Think 3/4 size K98. Action was like silk, deadly accurate and would eat anything from CB caps to HiPower rounds. Many a chippy and squirrel fell to it.
What drove you to keep the ones that you decided to keep? Nostalgia? Practicality? Something else? I’m not seventy yet but I have started giving out some of my guns to people who will enjoy them.
I’m 71 and the urge to go to the range and blast away just for the hell of it is long past, but I’ll drive 120 miles round trip every weekend to compete with my buds and try to keep my skills up. And the social aspect is not to be discounted. It’s about the only time I get out socially, and those people mostly agree with me about everything. It’s nice to be among fellows who are right.