CHRISTMAS DAY 1958

Hawkeye Wizard

New member
Bill,
To be completely honest with you, I'll have to admit that my Blue Streak did fail me one time.
That day was so memorable that I included it in my autobiography, MEMOIRS OF A MISSOURI COUNTRY BOY.
For your entertainment, here's that chapter.
Hawkeye Wizard


Christmas Day 1958

When I was young, lots of little Midwestern towns were still vibrant. My hometown of Wayland Missouri was only eight blocks long and six blocks wide. But it boasted three churches (Catholic, Methodist, and Baptist), several bars, two grain elevators, a hardware store, a drug store, Riney’s grocery store, a gas station, a railroad station, a four-room school, and 300 +/- inhabitants (more nearly 600 if you counted dogs).

The railroad ran diagonally through town, conveniently passing next to both grain elevators. When I was six, the grain elevator on the East end of town blew up (dust explosion) and burned to the ground. That left only the elevator on the West end of town, near my house. I mention the grain elevators and Riney’s store because they figure prominently in my 1958 Christmas day.

After 5th grade, my parents moved to Keokuk, Iowa (a larger town of 15, 000,) so that my sister and I could get better educations. Dad’s parents moved into from their farmhouse into our old house in Wayland. That house was across Main Street from the railroad station and only a block down the tracks from the remaining grain elevator. Riney’s grocery store was just across the tracks from the elevator.

Traditionally, my Dad’s extended family (aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, etc.) all met at my Grandparents house on Christmas day. The day included a massive meal at noon followed by exchange and unwrapping of presents. But, I really wasn’t interested in eating. I wasn’t even particularly interested in opening my presents. All a really wanted was to take my Blue Streak to the elevator. As soon as the last present was opened, I had my coat and galoshes on and was out the door.

Christmas day 1958 was cold and snowy. It was one of those snows with flakes that look as big as quarters. And there were LOTS of flakes. They drifted slowly down on a light westerly wind.

The English sparrows and starlings wanted into the elevator out of the snow and cold. It was my self-appointed responsibility to protect the elevator from them. Before they flew into a crack in the elevator building, they’d light on the power lines going into the building. That was a mistake!!!!

I propped up a sheet of plywood against the corner of the building to give me protection from the breeze and cover from their prying eyes. Then I went to work. My Dad, an outstanding rifle shot, had taught me well. Six pumps, load a Bantam pellet, squeeze gently, and there would be another hole in the snow where a victim had crashed.

To make reloading quicker, I poured a few dozen Bantam pellets in my coat pocket. After a dozen or so shots, my hands were so cold that I couldn’t feel the pellets to pick them out of my pocket individually. I had to scoop out some pellets with one hand and look at them to pick up one with the other hand.

This was in the days before snowmobile suits, heavy mittens and mukluk boots. In those days, winter clothes consisted of a flannel shirt, jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, cotton gloves and buckle-style galoshes over tennis shoes.

Even though I was very cold, adrenalin kept me at my post. I had 27 confirmed holes in the snow with my first 29 shots. The 30th bird was a starling. I really hated starlings, so I took extra special careful aim and squeezed slowly. Instead of the “POP” that I was expecting, my Blue Streak only gave a dull “thunk”. Apparently, my Blue Streak was so cold that the seals had contracted and let the air escape.

I stumbled across Main Street into Riney’s Grocery Store. Fortunately, Mr. Riney had opened up after noon. I stood next to his furnace until I had feeling in my fingers and the Blue Streak would hold air. Then I went back to the elevator. (Hey, I’m no quitter, and there were still birds left.)

By the time I got back to the elevator, my 27 holes were snowed shut. But, I kept counting. I was 34 for 37 when my Blue Streak “thunked” again. My Blue Streak and I were both too cold!

I ran for the house.

I didn’t have enough strength in my hands to unbutton my coat or unbuckle my galoshes. My wonderful Mother undressed me, wrapped me in a warm blanket, and stood me over the hot air floor register.

It was, perhaps, my greatest Christmas day ever.

I miss you, Mom.
 
I apologize.....but I have to ask...

I apologize.....but I have to ask...


My Aussie friends, does Bill Collaros have anything to do with the WRABF?


Your friend, Bill Calfee
 
Again I apologize.....but...

Again I apologize.....but...


Anyone:


Is Bill Collaros affiliated with the WRABF, in any capacity?


Thank you in advance....


Your friend, BC
 
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