Vic,

My uncle lived in Owensville. My maternal grandpa was the fire chief in Jeff City for ever and a day, Donald Hunter. My grandma was the head nurse at the hospital. And they owned the rollerskating rink for awhile.

I was taught the Ozarks ethics of not missing when you shoot because you can't afford to waste ammo and that a coffee can is a durable goods purchase...the coffee that comes in it is incidental. While fishing, you scoured the banks for lost floats, hooks, lures, flies, and weights. A forgotten fishing rod or tackle box was like winning the lottery. And this stuff was serious business because the vast majority of the meat you ate you either caught, hunted, or raised yourself. And who wanted to go to all the trouble to raise stuff when hunting and fishing were so much more fun?

My dad's father, the railroad conductor turned commercial fisherman-gambler I mentioned earlier, won a percussion lock damascus steel wire barrel 12 ga side-by-side from a traveler on the train one night in a game of craps. It was made by the Royal Belgian Gun Works in 1863. Shoots paper black powder shells. I said "shoots" because I still have it.