So, I went, I had a ball, saw Tex and Pat and lots of campers and as part of the Carnival, I got a Raffle ticket. Didn't think much about until right before they got ready to call the number. Suddenly I KNEW they were going to call my number. I was sure of it. Tex reached in, fished around and out came his hand with a number. Holding my ticket, I waited. When he called out the number, sure enough, it was MY NUMBER. I almost keeled over.
Now, I don't remember if I picked my prize or if they just gave it to me but knowing me, I picked it. And what did I pick but none other than a bolt action 22 rifle just like the one I'd passed my bar on (or whatever they called it back then) the previous summer. I had learned all the parts of the gun, shot to a certain level in all three positions required, could load and unload safely, and knew where and how to work the safety. Honey, Annie Oakley had nothing on me. I was thrilled out. of. my. mind. and I was twelve years old.
The minute I got home, I went upstairs, found my dad, and told him I'd "won a rifle". He was reading something and barely looked over the top of his glasses at me before poo-pooing that I'd won a damn rifle. First he tried to tell me it was an air rifle...then a BB gun... when the box clearly said bolt action 22 RIFLE, damn it. Poo pooing me again. He never even looked at the box. Finally I opened the box and handed him the barrel and asked him to help me tighten it in place, and that's when he looked up.
He almost jumped out of the chair telling me "this is a rifle". No, duh, Dad. I know that. I later overheard him tell my mother I had "come home from the Longhorn Carnival with a RIFLE ....what kind of Camp is that?" and that's when I heard my mother tell him, laughing, "I know. I heard the whole thing. She tried to tell you it was a RIFLE but you wouldn't listen."
I strutted around like a rooster for three days.
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