(no subject)
Daniel Boone & The Old Dusty Trail
In Grandpa’s den:
-an enormous moose head,
-a few dear heads,
-several muzzle-loading rifles,
-a bow and arrow,
-a tomahawk or two,
-a small wagon wheel,
-a gun-powder barrel, converted into a seat,
-some razor-sharp knives,
-and many pictures of wilderness and people from the wilderness.
Most dangerous things were hung up on the wall or out of reach, but where I could reach there was a raccoon-skin hat. I put the coonskin hat on and looked at a painting on the wall. It was an old man wearing a coonskin hat like the one I just put on. He had a stern look and his face that seemed wind-blown, scarred and seasoned by hard winters and fierce battles. I closed my eyes and dreamt of his adventures. Then, I heard Grandpa waddle down the stairs. “Zaa-ach? … Whatcha doing down there, sonny?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him with my little brown eyes and coonskin hat and pointed at the picture of the man on the wall.
“Oh… of course,” said Grandpa,” That’s Daniel Boone.”
I squinted. “Who’s Daniel Boone?”
“Why, Daniel Boone is one of our relatives. He was a hunter and a trapper just like me and pa, and he wore a coonskin hat too, just like you’re wearing.” Grandpa pulled out a book about Daniel Boone and read me story about Boone wrestling a bear down with a knife, then Grandpa pulled a knife off the wall and let me hold it. I held it with two hands, and unsheathed it, wowing the glossy, smooth blade and the coarse, ivory handle. “Careful, Zachary. You could kill a bear with that thing!”
Boone or no Boone, I grew up convinced that Grandpa’s side of the family were warriors of some kind. Grandmas’ were mere plumbers.
I went up stairs to tell Grandma about Daniel Boone and the bear and to see if she had heard about it. She rolled her eyes at Grandpa, and told me that her family were adventurers too. Her Daddy drove with his Daddy across the country to Seattle in one of the first cars ever made. My Great Grandpa Frees, when he was a little boy, traveled across the country in a Model A with his Dad and his dog. They were going to start a plumbing business in Seattle, and everything was going pretty well until when they stopped to get gas. After they filled up, My great grandpa noticed that his dog was acting up. “Dad, I think he’s got to go the bathroom.”
His Dad shook his head no.
“But, Dad, he has to go.”
”Son, we're leaving. Now!” My great-grandpa hopped out of the car and took his dog to go pee, and when he came back, his father had left.
Jay Frees and his dog, walked from Southern Oregon to Seattle.
In Grandpa’s den:
-an enormous moose head,
-a few dear heads,
-several muzzle-loading rifles,
-a bow and arrow,
-a tomahawk or two,
-a small wagon wheel,
-a gun-powder barrel, converted into a seat,
-some razor-sharp knives,
-and many pictures of wilderness and people from the wilderness.
Most dangerous things were hung up on the wall or out of reach, but where I could reach there was a raccoon-skin hat. I put the coonskin hat on and looked at a painting on the wall. It was an old man wearing a coonskin hat like the one I just put on. He had a stern look and his face that seemed wind-blown, scarred and seasoned by hard winters and fierce battles. I closed my eyes and dreamt of his adventures. Then, I heard Grandpa waddle down the stairs. “Zaa-ach? … Whatcha doing down there, sonny?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him with my little brown eyes and coonskin hat and pointed at the picture of the man on the wall.
“Oh… of course,” said Grandpa,” That’s Daniel Boone.”
I squinted. “Who’s Daniel Boone?”
“Why, Daniel Boone is one of our relatives. He was a hunter and a trapper just like me and pa, and he wore a coonskin hat too, just like you’re wearing.” Grandpa pulled out a book about Daniel Boone and read me story about Boone wrestling a bear down with a knife, then Grandpa pulled a knife off the wall and let me hold it. I held it with two hands, and unsheathed it, wowing the glossy, smooth blade and the coarse, ivory handle. “Careful, Zachary. You could kill a bear with that thing!”
Boone or no Boone, I grew up convinced that Grandpa’s side of the family were warriors of some kind. Grandmas’ were mere plumbers.
I went up stairs to tell Grandma about Daniel Boone and the bear and to see if she had heard about it. She rolled her eyes at Grandpa, and told me that her family were adventurers too. Her Daddy drove with his Daddy across the country to Seattle in one of the first cars ever made. My Great Grandpa Frees, when he was a little boy, traveled across the country in a Model A with his Dad and his dog. They were going to start a plumbing business in Seattle, and everything was going pretty well until when they stopped to get gas. After they filled up, My great grandpa noticed that his dog was acting up. “Dad, I think he’s got to go the bathroom.”
His Dad shook his head no.
“But, Dad, he has to go.”
”Son, we're leaving. Now!” My great-grandpa hopped out of the car and took his dog to go pee, and when he came back, his father had left.
Jay Frees and his dog, walked from Southern Oregon to Seattle.