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Thread: Thinking of Dad on Father's Day

  1. #1

    Default Thinking of Dad on Father's Day

    The smell of Hoppes #9 always reminds me of days spent with my Dad. Childhood memories of weekends spent at the Birchwood range and evenings spent reloading and cleaning guns. Its' familiar smell is comforting, taking me back to a time when the world seemed so much simpler. So for me, the perfect start for Father's Day was cleaning the pistols I shot yesterday and thinking of the guy who taught me what it means to be a man.

    Thanks Dad, I love you more than words can say.

  2. #2
    Member arizonaguide's Avatar
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    Default Yup! Great post, Norm!

    So many good memories.

    I NEVER was too afraid of Bears growing up in Alaska...cuz I was pretty sure Dad could whup their *****!
    This is probably my Favorite picture of us...

    Funny you mention about smells reminding us. Everytime I smell bacon I think of our 4am pre-hunt meal:
    Dozen Eggs
    Pound of Bacon
    Huge glass of Whole Milk
    Pot of coffee.

  3. #3

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    Arizona, that's a wonderful photo. What a great shot.

  4. #4
    Member arizonaguide's Avatar
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    Default Thanks to NormK for reminding us all!!!

    Quote Originally Posted by fremont View Post
    Arizona, that's a wonderful photo. What a great shot.
    Thanks Fremont. That's my Dad (he's 83 now). ALWAYS felt pretty darn SAFE around that guy. He broke up a fight in the balcony of the 4th avenue theatre one time that just amazed me. I was like 13years old and until then had never seen a "grownup" fight at close range. NOT your typical "schoolyard" type scenario. 83years old, and I'd still think twice about pushing his buttons. Of course he says that if I ever DO decide to try to whup his butt...he'll just BREAK my DINNER PLATE.
    So, it's a no-win situation to mess with Dad.

  5. #5

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    Good sized mitts on him; I'd think twice if he was 83 or 183!

    My late father-in-law was a Territorial Policeman, then a Trooper. Mainly out of Fairbanks. I used to watch "COPS" with him and he'd laugh his ***** off at the four cops trying to cuff one 150 lb. guy. They didn't have backup when he was in the bush.

    Enjoy your father; looks like he was a great dad to be raised by.

  6. #6
    Member kodiakrain's Avatar
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    Default Great pic

    Azguide, that's a great picture, and looks to me that you were probably right, like that guy probably could put the whippin' on a Bear.

    Great sharing memories and a post like this, Thanks
    Ten Hours in that little raft off the AK peninsula, blowin' NW 60, in November.... "the Power of Life and Death is in the Tongue," and Yes, God is Good !

  7. #7
    Member arizonaguide's Avatar
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    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by fremont View Post
    Good sized mitts on him; I'd think twice if he was 83 or 183!

    My late father-in-law was a Territorial Policeman, then a Trooper. Mainly out of Fairbanks. I used to watch "COPS" with him and he'd laugh his ***** off at the four cops trying to cuff one 150 lb. guy. They didn't have backup when he was in the bush.

    Enjoy your father; looks like he was a great dad to be raised by.
    Thanks folks! Yup...those freakin hands could come out of NOWHERE and grab my scrawny butt like I was a puppy! I didn't need a "FEAR of GOD"...I had "fear of DAD" to keep me in line.

    The funny part is that now that Mom is gone, and I've gotten older...I have come to realize that Dad was really the "soft hearted" one (growing up)...and MOM was the real discipline in the family! We miss you Mom.

    But you don't REALIZE that at the time...when it's "wait until your father gets home!"...and you kinda squirm and snap to attention from the thought of that.

  8. #8
    Member arizonaguide's Avatar
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    Default

    I was just telling some friends last night about how I went RUNNING to him in the garage (as a kid of about 6 or 7years old) because the next door neighbor (same age) was throwing rocks at me and my little brother.

    Dad told me, "punch him in the nose..and he'll NEVER throw another rock at you..."

    I explained "how do I get close enough to punch him without getting hit by a rock?" He didn't really say much...except.."well, it's up to you...your call" and he went back to working on whatever it was.

    SO, I went back out into the street...and the rocks started to fly again.

    I sucked it up..and marched strait at the kid...and I'll be ****ed if he COULDN'T hit me. He was in so much of a hurry to hit me that he NEVER actually took careful aim. I poped that little jackass right in the nose...and he went crying home. NEVER got another rock thrown at me or my brother. Got to be friends as teenagers later. Poor guy died in a motorcycle accident on the old Palmer highway. RIP, Sam.

    That lesson about being DIRECT has never left me.

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