** NOTE: The italicized font is creative non-fiction. Based upon the stories of my mother and uncle it is my creative writing of their memories. **
“Call your uncle, he’ll remember more,” was the encouragement from my mother. “Read him what you've already written, so he’ll understand what you're trying to do.” So a long distance phone call was placed and an ever familiar voice came on the line. “Hi Unc, mom wanted me to read what I've written, To help you understand what I’m doing.” After reading, I encouraged him to share, to which he was now more willing. Stories of school, and visiting the local candy store were offered. But, then came the story with a vision … “I still have the BB gun my father gave me; it hangs downstairs on a pair of deer antlers he mounted. My father was a taxidermist, you know…” Over the line, I could hear the distance of the years melt as he spoke and together we journeyed back to the side yard of the house in
South Lubec, where a young boy
waited to finally get to shoot his new gun.
“He still has his BB gun? Yes mom, I replied, he still has his BB gun, hanging on a pair of antlers your father mounted.