By Lamplight

She departed this morning for points north. Said her mother was lonely and will spend the rest of the week.

She didn't ask if I'd be lonely.

So I believe I'll occupy my time with my book and read by lamplight. It gives a certain warmth to an otherwise quiet dark night.

Stephen

Isn't Life Wonderful

(Dedicated to Sarah and Mike.)

This morning I awoke to a wonderful world. God has given us a nice cool cloudy morning and the pollen has my allergies on full alert which keeps my nose on a regulated drip. When I jerked my first cup of the day I dripped a long line of coffee across the wife's white tile floor. Both The Drudge Report and Fox News report possible hostilities in the Ukraine. Much of our nation is under a cold blanket of white and Susan's old goat died. She reportedly cried for three days. She emailed and said her will to live and work the land of her organic free range homestead had come to an end, and asked what price should she paint on the for sale sign.

Take it easy. Relax, for Pete's sake.

Millions across this great country are without work, or purpose, and find the meaning of life pointless. 'Ole Harry Sanders, out in his desert cabin, found dried mouse turds in his beer. It's said he almost commented suicide over the waste of it. Marriage has become secondary to the thrill of momentary lust. The lack of funds, money problems and corporate layoffs, have taken a great toll on otherwise rock solid relationships. Hundreds of thousands have lost their healthcare and suffer pain needlessly.

Want my advice. Smile. Cheer the heck up. Pet your dog and kiss your wife. Take your grandchildren, or your pet, for a walk. Enjoy the snow, or the rain, or the gray black satin city streets and while you're there, reach over and give your neighbor a handshake. God is good - He's given you life.

Granted, we live in a changed America. Yes, we have beyond a shadow of a doubt the most inept destructive presidential administration in our nation's history, but trust me, we'll walk out together, hand in hand, from the other side.

I receive, as Little Bit is fond of saying, 'whole lots of email.' Many I truly enjoy. Others, not so much because the latter are inevitably filled with lost hope and most of all, fear. They begin, "Mr. Stephen, Harry lost his job and we just don't have enough money to buy beans and bullets and our bread has grown moldy and what should we do? Oh my Lord we're scared and the world is about to end, please help us." I paraphrased, of course. Bless their hearts.

(I write this tongue in cheek but I take your letters seriously, and with respect, and treat all confidentially.)

Hey, folks, chill out. Smile. Take a deep breath and relax. Trust me, if the world ends tomorrow a bag of beans will not help you one little eddy bit. Several years in the past I gathered together a group of friends. It took me over four years but eventually I found several nice families with like minded world views much like mine own. I restricted my search to hardened military minds, men of violence. My first advice to these men, are you ready for it - 'Don't Live In Fear, Live Prepared.' Today each of these men, some combat vets, are gentle, intelligent, fun loving, men. They walk through life with a smile on their faces and live life to its fullest.

Why, because they are not afraid. They take life's lumps with heads held high, and because they know the rest of the group has their backs and God will provide. They don't complain. They don't whimper and cry for they know tomorrow will be another beautiful day under His beautiful benevolent care.

No person need walk through life in constant fear, it isn't healthy. Just because you're a Prepper (or Survivalist) do not allow the lifestyle to badge you paranoid. You have friends, family, and if you are a believer in a higher power - God and His church.

Paranoid gives birth to fear and fear is a sneaky old bitch. It warps the gray matter and whispers bad advice. It'll make you climb trees for sleep and one morning you'll awaken to find you've lined the walls of your home with canned tomatoes and you'll have coated your underwear with lead and when you glance into the mirror find loaded magazines dangle from your ears instead of those pretty diamonds Jesse gave you for Christmas.

Hey, relax. I'm here. I too suffer from depression and I still function, sort of. I'll be your friend. If you must, write me. I'm well aware times are difficult and the unemployment check is late or is about to reach its expiration date, but please hang in there - you are loved. You will find a new job.

Which brings me to this: those prepping supplies will wait. When money is tight - take a friggin break. It isn't necessary to buy twenty extra rounds of ammunition. Leave off on the beans and pressure bandages. Stockpiling that extra one hundred gallons of gasoline can wait until next Spring. Take care of your children and families. Pay the mortgage and utilities, the end of the world as we know it will be placed on hold, I promise.

If the evil whispers in your ear and suggest it would be a wonderful idea to take your battle rifle and walk towards the school grounds with ill intent - please pause a moment and sit and write me an email. I will listen. If this same evil has painted your life into a corner and believes it's best if you offer your God given life as a sacrifice, please remember I will be here - allow me a moment to suggest otherwise. Walk outside for just a second and take a deep breath of our Lord's clean air and look at that sky, isn't it beautiful. Listen to the birds sing. Hold a child in your arms. Bake a batch of cookies. I promise - life is wonderful and tomorrow the cherry blossoms will bloom.

Be happy.

Stephen

       

     

What's For Dinner

I'm in the mood for shrimp. Spicy shrimp -

 

Like this. 

Stephen

Nothing As Yet

Other than this cool steady rain. We've gone from Spring warmth to early Autumn nice.

Allow me, please, to have my first cup. I slept late.

Stephen

Light 'em Up

To all you nice mall ninjas out there I'd like your recommendations and thoughts on a nice rifle light. What do you prefer and why?

Help me out.

I'm in the mood to shoot coyotes. Care to join me, if so BYOA.

Stephen

The River

It's early afternoon and the shop's door is finally locked and the drive home is quick and easy and she has prepared a simple lunch and soon kisses are exchanged and then the nose of the truck is pointed towards the river. Take a deep breath.

The word is, expect wet. The late winter and now spring rain has so soaked the ground even frogs pack snorkels. Overcast, warm but green, our world. To drive and smell the freshness of spring is rejuvenating. Through the city traffic, a left on the expressway and then west on another and forty-five minutes later to northwards trek and the farm road is right there...lined with sycamores and brush. Then the gate is behind and I park, nose to nose with the horse.

Outside the truck I stretched and glanced around. Duke had backed his truck close to the front door of the Boar's Nest. Her husband, by use of four wheel drive, parked around back close to the range. Rebel too, since he rides a Rubicon. I played it safe and kept my rig close to Buster, the farm horse and only current full time resident. He bites, and has been known to fight coyotes, so I was certain he'd protect my truck parked as it was on the high and dry. 

The land slops towards the river. As is its seasonal nature, the tannin stained water hugs and holds close the farm, and will if given the chance, claim its ownership of the lower pasture. Barbed wire fences offer little restriction. Luck was with us last weekend and the river blessed us and held close within the tree line. I unloaded my gear.

Inside the bunkhouse voices from the deck were subdued. I remember light laughter and one of my brothers (blood) stood near the old cast iron sink and we exchanged hand shakes and light sibling banter. He's several years my junior and understands his place. Within minutes of my arrival I slipped away and walked the range and stopped and put match to tender and soon a bonfire roared. Large fires and rednecks are kin. 

With four members present we had our quorum and gathered at the range shed. Then, I remember the sharp scent of gunpowder. Range bags opened and unattended, brass gathered from the leaves as the bonfire roared and popped after Duke casually scattered several hundred rounds of old twenty-two in the fire. (Try this trick at a party and watch the flock scatter.)

Rebel's Ruger

As magazines were filled with fodder I remembered the warmth of sunlight, a flock of Robins as they searched the wet grass for worms, the treeline - Cypress limbs bare, the olive of Live Oak, the deep green of the wild Holly, the almost complete silence. I remember it felt good, just downright good this gathering of men, my friends.

Duke broke out his sweet old .357 Marlin, a rifle of a certain age...and I remember how it thumped. He feed her .38 Special rounds and it was nice to see the iron swinger jerk and dance as he fired. I remember how he was so very careful to track his brass, as was Senior when he put his new baby thru her paces. I remember the same careful control of brass when Rebel fed his Winchester the now expensive old, but tried and true, thirty-thirty rounds. 

I remember someone, maybe me, commented how some day soon spent brass maybe as precious as gold. All agreed with grunts and sighs. The line went cold and boots scraped the leaves aside in search of brass as the warm wind tickled our faces.

I eased back to photograph the unattended range bags and dug into their depths in search of rare pieces of history. Duke had a nice little nickled H&R nine shot twenty-two. It reminded me so much of my old model 999 packed in my youth.

I remember the solid fire of an old soldier, a newly acquired SKS Duke found at the last gunshow, the soft sputter of recoil from my Sub-2000 as it threw nine millimeter towards the tree line. It felt so darn good.

Senior's Advance

I remember thinking, isn't it nice free men can assemble and practice the art of self-defense. To still have the ability to gather and complain of our governments stubborn path towards the destruction of our country's Constitution. Albeit brief I do remember these thoughts.

Good 'Ole Twenty-Two's

Twenty-two rounds are our norm. The expense of ammunition is, at least to me, unsettling. I fired a few rounds of forty-five but each and every time the hammer fell I remember thinking, 'take it easy, this stuff is expensive.'

Duke's unattended range bag of goodies

Soon hunger drove us towards the Boar's Nest. When the oak fire was reduced to coals Senior took the steaks, huge mammoth sized chunks of beef, from the cooler and slapped them atop the grill. The man is a genius with fire and meat. One steak, one plate - I broke out my knife and fork.

Each, two inches thick

With two members absent four would eat very well indeed.

As we sat and waited and listened to the coyotes sing and the peepers squeal and as the meat seared we prepped the table. Duke was certain he'd noticed muscle movement in one of the steaks so rose and put the poor slab of beef out of its misery with a well placed round of thirty-eight special. Duke is deadly at point blank range.

His beans cut the flavor of the gun powder.

Like the cultured men we are we sat a proper table.

Our menu; T-bone with Duke's cast iron beans and baked potatoes slowly cooked in the fire and of course, bread and butter.

Duke's Cast Iron Beans

And then...loosen the belt.

After dinner we gathered on the deck and waited for darkness. Rifles were placed close at hand, flashlights ready. Coffee set to brew. We talked. I remember Rebel as he stood on the edge of the deck and watched the bonfire slowly glow and I remember the way his handlebar mustache, gray and droopy, moved with the wind and the slow and thoughtful way Duke has when he speaks of any subject. Senior as he fiddled with his cell phone.

We waited for the coyotes until at last I asked Senior to Google us a YouTube video of their song. He hit play and I remember how instantly the coyotes yelled their response - a searing and haunting call of pure wild excitement. The night dogs were hungry too. Rebel rose and hit the tree line with his light and said, "I see 'em." He and I moved off the deck and I cross-haired one set of eyes and fired a quick three round burst of twenty-two from my M&P. The critters laughed.

Rebel and the bonfire

 All too soon the night was over and the sun took us from our bags. An unexpected storm front approached and it held heavy rains. I said, "Diddy Mao." 

Duke got stuck. Rebel came to the rescue.

Then both Rebel and Duke were stuck. This mud is as slick as goose poop.

Duke digs. Rebel watches. I stood by to supervise.

Soon I was home to Sweet Wife and a nice long hot shower. The rain soothed my sleep.

Take care.

Stephen




    

Take A Guess

Take a look at this awful cell phone snapshot and guess where and what I've done for the better part of my day....go ahead, take a guess.

Sadly we have become victims of our new healthcare system. We're now under a new plan and I had to change doctors - both primary and cardiologist. Today was 'get to know you' day. Said, "Howdy, Doc." Then had to have all my prescriptions renewed. What a crock.

Oh yes, you're day's a coming.....

Stephen