This post is part of a series of editorials written by Bert Walsh during his tenure as president and past president of the Shasta Historical Society. Readers are advised that his humor is often irreverent and rarely politically correct.
Click here for the table of contents for the entire collection of his editorials.
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When I was in the sixth grade, I noticed that I was bigger than most of my classmates. I asked my mother if this was because I was Irish. She gently answered, "No, son, it's because you are seventeen."
Our son came to spend the holidays with us, and we found that I still had some 22 ammunition dating back to World War II that we really should get rid of. So we went out to a remote area and set up some beer cans and matchbook covers to shoot at. Most of the rounds were still good, but I noticed a peculiar thing.
No matter how much I squinted my eye I couldn't locate the front sight. Well, naturally this didn't help my marksmanship at all. Eventually I started to remember where the front sight used to be in relation to the muzzle, and I got so I could hit the beer cans pretty consistently.
Now this is interesting, but you may well ask what all this has to do with the activities of the Shasta Historical Society. And in all honesty, I have to answer, "A whole lot!" Obviously, when you are not too smart and your ammunition is old and you can't zero in on things, you just have to fake it.
--BTW
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