As a boy, and wanting to please my dad, I got a hunting license and a Mossberg 20 ga. shotgun. I took the required gun-safety course which was held in the staff room of Roos Atkins, a men's apparel store in San Francisco. For our first actual hunt Dad created a kind of "tent" for the bed of the truck; this was to be our home for the night so that we could drive to the Sacramento Refuge the evening before and get a good "place in line" for the morning. It rained that night; I guess paint drop-cloths aren't designed to repel water so we were soaked through and through. I was excited and couldn't sleep. I stared at the phosphorescent hands of dad's "Baby Ben Travel Clock" and counted how many "ticks" were in a minute. The alarm was set for 4:30. "We gotta get up early Bobby if we want a good number!" We were driven out in an open bed truck to our assigned pond and dad set-up a make-shift blind of sticks and burlap. We drank brandy to stay warm and ate turkey sandwiches Mom had prepared and wrapped in foil. I got to shoot my gun a couple of times. Dad killed some ducks, he said I hit one but I'm not sure I did. We hunted several times together after that. Dad never had a hunting dog, Dad had me! I had no problem wading into the pond to retrieve ducks if they were properly dead; however, I never cared for "ringing" the necks of the half-dead ones. Being brought up in a butcher shop, dead animals didn't frighten me, but nothing "half-dead" was ever brought into the shop! "Meat is food!" Thanks Dad!
As a boy, and wanting to please my dad, I helped him terrace the slope behind our fence so that we could grow our own vegetables. This meant tearing down the old "fort" he built for me (when I was more of a child) and "stepping" up the hillside with thick slabs of timber, then back-filling the boards with top soil. "Nothing like fresh vegetables Bobby!" We grew chard, zucchini, tomatoes, lettuce, corn, beans and we tried to grow more exotic veggies at times but we, pretty much, stuck with the standards. I learned how and when to water, fertilize and harvest and I learned that carrots don't get very big in hard ground, or if you pulled them up too soon. One day I learned how frightened my dad was of snakes. It seems, two garter snakes, found their way into our garden. Dad was working on one terrace, I was on another, when something caught Dad's eye. He yelled out one of his favorite curses and wielded his spade with great aplomb. These serpents didn't stand a chance! In an instant each was chopped to bits and the pieces continued to writhe and quiver and would continue writhing and quivering, "until sundown," Dad informed me. He buried the pieces in a quickly dug and surprisingly deep pit. We continued gardening that day, mostly in silence, occasionally interrupted by a kind of "vocal shiver" Dad made. We brought our "crops" into the house, Mom cooked, and we all gathered at the dinner table just as Dad expected. Thanks Dad!
Dad raised us: "Italian-first;" and here I am in Italy. . . as a man! At times I feel like a boy but the mirror doesn't lie; I'm there. I no longer have to prove myself by playing baseball, although Bocce is starting to appeal to me and I'm trying to get the town to refurbish the court. I've planted a Fall/Winter Garden and I'm trying to remember the things I'd learned from my dad about soil, water and fertilizer. I haven't seen any snakes in our campagna, but I discovered "evidence" of wild boar (cinghiale) yesterday when I arrived to a freshly "rooted" garden (Rich attempted to save some of the scattered plants). Sometimes at sunset I hear the hunter's guns and I often think, could I kill a boar? I'm sure Dad would encourage me to,"try it sometime Bobby!" Cinghiale is quite delicious! Meat is food! Thanks Dad!
As a boy, and wanting to please my dad, I helped him terrace the slope behind our fence so that we could grow our own vegetables. This meant tearing down the old "fort" he built for me (when I was more of a child) and "stepping" up the hillside with thick slabs of timber, then back-filling the boards with top soil. "Nothing like fresh vegetables Bobby!" We grew chard, zucchini, tomatoes, lettuce, corn, beans and we tried to grow more exotic veggies at times but we, pretty much, stuck with the standards. I learned how and when to water, fertilize and harvest and I learned that carrots don't get very big in hard ground, or if you pulled them up too soon. One day I learned how frightened my dad was of snakes. It seems, two garter snakes, found their way into our garden. Dad was working on one terrace, I was on another, when something caught Dad's eye. He yelled out one of his favorite curses and wielded his spade with great aplomb. These serpents didn't stand a chance! In an instant each was chopped to bits and the pieces continued to writhe and quiver and would continue writhing and quivering, "until sundown," Dad informed me. He buried the pieces in a quickly dug and surprisingly deep pit. We continued gardening that day, mostly in silence, occasionally interrupted by a kind of "vocal shiver" Dad made. We brought our "crops" into the house, Mom cooked, and we all gathered at the dinner table just as Dad expected. Thanks Dad!
Dad raised us: "Italian-first;" and here I am in Italy. . . as a man! At times I feel like a boy but the mirror doesn't lie; I'm there. I no longer have to prove myself by playing baseball, although Bocce is starting to appeal to me and I'm trying to get the town to refurbish the court. I've planted a Fall/Winter Garden and I'm trying to remember the things I'd learned from my dad about soil, water and fertilizer. I haven't seen any snakes in our campagna, but I discovered "evidence" of wild boar (cinghiale) yesterday when I arrived to a freshly "rooted" garden (Rich attempted to save some of the scattered plants). Sometimes at sunset I hear the hunter's guns and I often think, could I kill a boar? I'm sure Dad would encourage me to,"try it sometime Bobby!" Cinghiale is quite delicious! Meat is food! Thanks Dad!
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| Dad as a Boy! |
Sorry to hear about your boaring visitor. It's heartbreaking to find all your lovingly tended plants all dug up. Talk to us about fences when we see you again...
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