Lessons from a cap gun summer

If your neighborhood is like mine, there have been blasts of firecrackers day and night for the last couple of weeks. When I was young the most frequent explosive sounds leading up to the 4th of July, and indeed all summer, were the 'pops' from a cap gun. A red roll of 500 explosives bought at the store for a nickel was inserted into the play revolver. Pulling the trigger enabled the hammer to hit a flammable dot of the roll, resulting in a puff of smoke and a loud 'pop.'

Cap guns were also part of our outdoor neighborhood play as we mimicked the pretend worlds we were watching on this new thing called television. Cowboys and Indians fired their rifles and enemies fell off mountains but were back on the show the following week. Annie Oakley and Dale Evans had guns in their holsters and could ride their horses and shoot and, while the bad guys were shot, there was no blood. Fights were choreographed so that even as saloon furniture was destroyed, the actors' hats stayed on their heads. Violence was fake.

The lessons related to my cap gun came when my mother served venison stew one late summer evening when I was seven. "What's venison?" I asked, enjoying an early taste of autumn.

My mother began her answer with, "Remember when Uncle Eddie went hunting last year?"

"Sure," I replied. "Sandy and Aunt Del came over for lunch."

"Well," she continued. "He shot a deer, and cut it up and wrapped the meat in small packages that Aunt Del put in the freezer. Yesterday she took out a couple of packages to thaw and gave us one of them."

"Venison is deer meat?" I exclaimed, putting down my fork.

"Yes," said my dad entering the conversation.

"Uncle Eddie shot a DEER?" I continued, thinking of the beautiful animals we sometimes saw on rides in the country, for I hadn't yet seen or read about Bambi.

"Yes," came the reply from my mother who was sitting across the table watching me intently.

"With a GUN?" I persisted.

"Well, with his rifle," said my dad patting my hand.

"And the deer died and we are eating it?" I sobbed as I absorbed my first lesson in a cycle of life and lost a piece of my childhood innocence. I've heard of similar stories that turned the child into a vegetarian. My parents must have handled the situation in a manner that didn't push me in that direction or maybe I hadn't heard about such a choice.

The second result of that evening was the loss of a desire to be Annie Oakley. She had been a role model and I enjoyed our pretend plots where I got to be her. Maybe it was time the cap gun and my cowgirl outfit stayed in the drawer, and while it was my decision for them to stay there, it seemed the result of a harsh reality rather than outgrowing a toy.

Now that I understood what it meant when Uncle Eddie went hunting, my view of him changed. It was one thing for pioneers to have to hunt for food but to hunt for fun, which is how my seven year old mind perceived it, was quite another. I was not truly and fully comfortable around him after that meal.

The last lesson was my mother's. She never served venison again.

Marilyn