Our older daughter is a registered nurse; our younger one hopes to be a police officer someday.
both want to help others. I tell people that if Liz ever shoots somebody, Ruth will be there to patch him up.
Liz knew that when I was a kid, I often went shooting with my dad. so she asked me the other day to take her to a local indoor shooting range.
Dad had friends on the Danville Police Department, and they let us use the pistol range that was in the basement of the old police headquarters, part of the city building on Hazel Street.
But most of our plinking was done outdoors, blasting tin cans and no-deposit beer bottles.
Things were simpler then. You could go out in the country, just about anywhere, and shoot. We were never disturbed by an angry landowner or a sheriff’s deputy.
One of our favorite spots was on East Winter Avenue, where Winter crossed Stony Creek. there was hardly any traffic there then. We’d toss bottles into the creek on the north side of the bridge, then pop them as they floated by on the south side. If anybody ever went wading there, I hope they wore thick-soled shoes.
Dad is long gone, and so is the little Browning .22 rifle that we usually used.
Liz and I dusted off a real antique — a Model 1890 Winchester .22 that belonged to my grandfather — and drove to the range. It was pretty cool, even though the charges seemed a little steep: $8 for 30 minutes, $15 for a full hour.
We brought our own bullets; the range provided earplugs, paper targets and our own lighted lane. You attach the target to clips, then, at the press of a button, you position it electronically at the desired distance. Press the “return” button, and the target comes back to you so you can see how well you did.
I always was a pretty good shot, and I was happy to see that I still can ventilate a bull’s eye.
Liz was a natural. After I showed her how to load the magazine, work the pump action and line up the sights, she shot like an old pro. she was so delighted with the results that she brought one of our targets home and took pictures of it for others to see.
I had forgotten how relaxing and fun shooting can be. It requires steady hands, a good eye and total concentration. As you’re taking your next shot, you’re not thinking about anything else in the world. seeing those ragged holes at the center of the target is a thrill that never grows stale.
for a little while, I was 10 years old again, back on the Stony Creek Bridge with my best buddy. He’d throw the bottles into the water, and I’d send them to the bottom, one by one.
“good shot, Beezer!” Dad would say. “good shootin’!”
I hope Liz had as much fun as I did, way back then. I think she did.
Danville native Kevin Cullen is a former Commercial-News reporter. Reach him at irishhiker@aol.com.
Day at shooting range brings back memories »
Local News »
The Commercial-News, Danville, IL