MILK. When I was 9 and 10 years old we lived on a farm. I went to a one room school with grades from kindergarten to 8th grade. Sometimes when I was running a little late for school I'd ride my pony Scout the mile + to school, when I turned him loose he's head home.

We had a few milk cows and my job was to milk the cows, separate the milk in the separator to take out the cream, feed the pigs and chickens, churn butter and... shovel cow manure.

About that time I got my first real bow that was ordered from the Sears Catalog...lemonwood longbow and wood arrows. All bows in the early 40's had no glass and were longbows.

At the end of WWII We moved off the farm into the suburb's and life changed dramatically. I no longer had woods and fields to shoot my bow. I would roam a nearby golf course to shoot (when no one was playing golf) and we got our milk from a milk deliveryman who brought it in a horse drawn milk wagon.

It always amazes me that the horse would stop at every house on the route that needed milk and bypass the houses that didn't need milk...without any guidance from the milkman.

Things have sure changed in the last 70+ years haven't they.

Yes they have! Our milk was delivered by the milk man in a reusable glass container. A insulated box sat on the porch, but he had a truck.

Sure have Ron. Thanks for the memories. You riding your pony to school then turning him loose made me smile. Jim

And what's even more amazing is that the horse didn't even have a smartphone, no less an "app" (unless it was an Appaloosa) with GPS to tell him where to go! How'd did people know where they were back then?

I grew up around horses and have had them for the past 40 years. You can't get lost on a horse. All you need to do is give them their head and they'll take you home....EVERY time. And the best part is that there's no battery, or worse yet, a MICROCHIP involved!

Heck, if I was 10 and left on a pony for school, I pretty much think I would have gotten side -tracked somewhere- woods, field, ponds, etc. Of course, I do recall Corporal Punishment both at school and when the Ole man got home :( BTW in the early sixties, every house in my neighborhood had built in milk delivery boxes. It came in a truck, but the guy had a cool uniform and hat.

GREAT STORY! Very interesting about the Milk-Man's horse!

Not as old as a lot of you on here but just the change in the last 30-40 years has been quite something for me. One things for sure change is going to happen like it or not. Probably not popular thing to say but a 50% drop in human population may help it.

Yes interesting, but if you know horses not all that uncommon. I've been watching mine from my kitchen window for the past 30 years and they tell me things about weather, sunrise, deer, people and a host of other things. And the best part is that unlike people, they DON'T LIE!

I have a milkbox sitting in the kitchen. Hasn't had any milk put in it for about fifty years now. Ron, my dad tells very similar stories of when he was a boy growing up in south central Nebraska on the farm. They milked a few cows, separated the cream, and fed the skim to pigs or calves. Saturday they would load up in the old Dodge and sell the cream and eggs at the creamery in town. That was their main income in those days. They butchered and grew a garden for their food. Dad said his very favorite meal was canned meat. I had some a few times and it was so tender that it would melt in your mouth. That is a bygone era and the snowflakes of today would just curl up and die before they would live life like that.

My parents are your age Ron and have similar memories. Hard as it was sometimes they always tell their stories with a smile.

I remember getting milk delivered to the front porch of our house. That was in the early 60's. That Horse was smarter than an autonomous car.

you got a few years on me Ron...My parents both went to one room schoolhouses.

We didn't have TV till I was 12 small black and white, antenna sat on top, we got 3 stations. Milk was delivered by a milkman as well as bread.

I remember walking into Kinsey archery on main street mount Joy PA. There were recurves and longbows hanging on round displays that you could turn to look at. Also wood and fiberglass arrows.

I appreciate all archery. But at times I am very glad to have lived in a time when things were so much simpler than now. There were not nearly as many Bowhunters back then, but I was fortunate to have a grandfather, father and uncles that were avid bowhunters. I started bowhunting at age 12 and I credit my love for the outdoors to those that paved the way for me.

Things have certainly changed yes, Thanks for your thread Ron.

Great story Ron. Lot of good memories back when life was simpler and not as crazy and computer dependent as today.

Something else I had to think of. Growing up in a very, very avid outdoors family, we filmed our outings. hunting camp up north fishing trips, to Canada..ect...

Played them with an old movie projector no sound. Much like this movie.

Things have changed Ron....not sure for the better sometimes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuVfwgWkhFc&t=318s

Remember milk delivery but it was with trucks. Did see horses used some for general hauling. These were the junk men who would come to the door looking for something to haul. Vegetable peddlers would come too. My mother would buy okra and cantelopes from one.

Still remember the smell of fried chicken when I walked up to the house. Didn't have it often, but that smell made for a great day. Remember my great uncle, a dentist, killing a few chickens for Sunday dinner. Most dentists now can afford to buy them without the feathers, I suppose. They should be able to, 'cause I had several clean my pockets the last two winters. Nowdays, my granddudes and granddudeces eat chicken without a bone. Seems hard to hold to me and there's no bone to chew on either. Mom's fried chicken still stays with me.

Bought a rabbit-in-distress call and my friend and I went out one night with my new hunting bow and was blowing on it to get some coyotes to come in. His grandmother, who lived across the road, sure got after us because she said that call sounded like a baby crying. Probably scared the coyotes too.

Ron, your story made me smile. The one room school i went to had grades one through six. Kindergarten didn't happen around here until about 1970.

No milkman, we drank it straight from the cow except for what was churned for butter.

Thanks Ron for the post. Should be some fun replies.

My folks sent me to summer camp in 1947. They had classes every day for the kids. Woodcraft, horseback riding, swimming, archery and others. Archery was my favorite and I skipped many of the other classes to stay in archery class and shoot the bow. This is the Diploma that I won and still have.

I worked with draft horses on a logging job 2 summers. They knew their way fron the woods to the log yard and back. They also knew when it was quitting time.

A Refrigerator was called an “ Ice Box “

You have a few years on me Mr. Ron, but we lived smack up against South Mountain in Cumberland County, Pa. One room school also with grades 1 through 6 when I went there. Carl Brymesser delivered the milk from a truck for Harrisburg Dairies. The Banner Tea man, and the bread man also made house to house deliveries. Dad worked as maintenance for the Carlisle School District and mom stayed home and was burdened with us kids.

Never had a bow for a gift but made a couple from the lilac bush and some golden rod arrows. Yes...times have changed, but all in all not much for the better...just more crap to deal with and technology that stopped people from visiting and talking to one another.

When I was a kid, in the early '50s, there was an ice house in the local rail yard. I recall seeing the iceman delivering ice from a horse drawn wagon. The ice house burned down in '67 and it smouldered for more than a month before the fire was finally out. There was quite a flock of pigeons that roosted there. My cousin and I shot a bunch of them when they flew over the creek, about a mile from the ice house, in the early '60s. bvd

My trusty steed Gettem up Scout.

Hey, Ron. Good story. You have a few years on me. I turn 70 in a couple weeks.

I grew up on a farm in sw Iowa, early 50s. Attended one of the last country schools in the state. Grades K thru 8. I spent my first 5 years there. Usually was the only kid in my class. One teacher taught all grades, all subjects.

The school was surrounded by cornfields, with a small creek about 1/4 mile away. Played in the dirt at recess. Later, I always said, "when we went on a field trip, WE WENT ON A FIELD TRIP!"

During the winter, it was the older boy's responsibility to go to the cellar and shovel corncobs and coal into the furnace.

My family lived in a big white frame house 2 miles from the school. To get to school, I either A. walked, B. rode my bike, or C. rode my Shetland pony. The road was a rough gravel road, and yes, it WAS uphill both ways. Rarely was I taken to school in the family auto, even in the winter. If the weather was really bad, my dad would drive me. But that didn't happen often.

I was driving a tractor when I was 7 years old, and milking cows on a one-legged stool. Collected eggs in the morn and evening, rounded up cattle on my horse, fed the hogs, butchered chickens, etc.

I never really liked farm life all that much. The city kids, 3 miles away, had all the fun. Movies, sports, other kids down the block to play with. Around 1958 or so, all the schools consolidated, and I was then bused into town to go to school.

Times change. People, not so much so.

Dennis in Colorado

Here's the Stout boys. Me, oldest brother Tom, and brother Dave. Elderly, maybe you need to just pass by this one.

GDS: That was a good camo pattern!

Still get it delivered in glass bottles here in NY State however by truck instead of horses:). Taste much better and colder coming out of glass.

Now that's cool. I believe that Ritchey's Dairy still makes home delivery over around the Martinsburg, Pa., area.

Some things come full circle, Ron. Fifteen miles away from where this is written is a little community that graduated 18 seniors last year. At least a couple of the younger kids in the school system rode their colts to school daily from the outlying ranches, saddling up before light in the winter and sometimes coming home in the dark. They put their horses in a round corral while at school. I think they were about junior high age. I kind of like that.

My daughter lives on the outskirts of a big town for Idaho. She has her milk and other local dairy products delivered in glass bottles to her door in the insulated box like the old days. It costs her more, but says it's better and she likes to support local small enterprises.

I, too, milked a cow as a kid. At the time, I was kind of insulted by it--a ranch kid milking a cow. At 12, that was about as low as calling me a sheepman or a farmer! We strained the milk in cheese cloth and fed the cow dogs and barn cats with it, too. To this day I darn near gag on 2 percent milk. Coffee never tasted so good as with fresh cream.

On the ranch, I grew up feeding lose hay to a lot of cows in the winter. It's amazing how much hay you can toss with a good team that knows "gee and haw" and "whoa" and "baaaack up a little" while pulling a sleigh or wagon. Today, you couldn't find a kid in a thousand who knows what a crouper or hames are. But then I can't do a tweet or send paypal or get on Facebook... We worked longer and harder in simpler times then, but we slept well, even if we smelled like horse sweat and cow manure!

I remember as a kid the milkman bringing the milk in the bottles with the big bulb on the top for the cream to rise to. The first thing my mom would do is pour that off into a small bowl that she and dad would use for their coffee.

We also had a man who'd drive a horse wagon down our street who'd sharpen knives and things for you and also take away any scrap metal. This was in New Jersey in the 1950s.

On hot summer days the kids would gather around the wagon and the milkman would chip off a chunk for each kid from the ice blocks in the back of the wagon that kept the milk cold. A couple times a week the street sweeper would come by to sweep up the horse manure in the street.

In the winter sometimes if you didn't get the milk left in the milk box on the porch quick enough it would freeze and push the cardbord lids up out of the bottle.

There was a man in the neighbourhood that actually hunted deer with a bow. This was 1946-47. In my eyes he was some kind of super Hero.

I remember mom talking about milk deliveries in front of their house in Madison, Wisconsin. Also, their 'icebox' was cooled with ice cut from frozen lake.

In the South, we had ice boxes. People still slip up every now & then and say ice box when meaning refrigerator.

Houses had basements with a hopper and coal furnace.. no garage but a coal shoot,milk man was at our house, milk in the box, empties in the truck before sun up. Went to 4 room school house in KY

I remember when I was a young teenager and had an early morning paper route thrown by bicycle. Sometimes during the darkness of the early morning hours of winter I would hit the empty milk bottles set outside for the milkman to pick up. I still don't like the sound of breaking glass today.

My families farm around 1969. We had black angus, horses, chickens, goats, pigs. Me, my sister, and my Mom with our horses.

Not quite as old as some born 1961 lived in Jacksonville nc on new river marine corps base. Did get milk delivered by truck in & put in box on porch .but most vivid childhood memory was watching the evening news on black & white tv hoping to see my dad in Vietnam

What is Milk? LOL, One day it will be replaced in the family home by substitutes. It's amazing how quickly things change...

Although I have never had milk delivered to my door step, I still appreciate history and daydream about how life was then.

My horse can take me on a trail ride. Give him his head and all I have to do is sit and encourage he stay collected.

This the oldest I have handy. Around 1982. Red/White hat.

that would be like the old psychological test -- when they rang the bell the dog would start salivating.

Ivan Pavlov was a Russian Scientist who performed a series of experiments involving conditioning. It was called Pavlov's Dog. He got the dog to come by the ring of a bell.

This thread brought back some memories. I grew up on a chicken farm during the 50s and 60s. I also helped an uncle on his dairy farm and worked at another uncle's grocery store.

We had a milkman, ragman, fish man and iceman.

I had plenty of land were I could rove.

There were no deer to spook. Now that area is loaded with deer.

A car would go by and we would run to see who it was.

My friend and I were the neighborhood kids.

Anyway...

Those were good days.

Jawge

This is me around 1943-44 fishing with my Dad's steel telescopic fish pole. My Dad, Grandpa and I would go out in Grandpa's big wooden boat and fish until we had a couple pails of bluegills and specks. Grandma would fry up platters of fish with fried potatoes and homemade bread for breakfast. Fish is still my favorite breakfast today.

There's a park and a high school on the farm and canyon where my dad shot his first dear with the bow I have on the wall in our living room. It's about 5 feet from the county centiniel commemorative Winchester of his that my mom gave me when he passed. Drove around the old farm country a year ago and discovered the house I grew up in is gone. The whole yard, barn, chicken coop, and everything leveled. At least it got plowed up and farmed instead of built.

I had similar experiences we rode horses to school but we took grain for our horse and their was a out building where we keep the horse while we were in school. We went to the 1 room school house that had 6 rows of desks. 1st row first grade 2 nd row 2 nd grade we also milked and separated the milk every morning but my dad delivered it in the mornings we also delivered eggs to the grocery store every other day. Those were good days.

I had similar experiences we rode horses to school but we took grain for our horse and their was a out building where we keep the horse while we were in school. We went to the 1 room school house that had 6 rows of desks. 1st row first grade 2 nd row 2 nd grade we also milked and separated the milk every morning but my dad delivered it in the mornings we also delivered eggs to the grocery store every other day. Those were good days.

I was a ward of the state of kansas till i was 16 so i dont have alot of great childhood memories butt i do have some ,and they are of Ron Leclaire shooting a longbow in a way that most of us will never achieve.you have been an inspiration.when i need a smile i pull out a video of you and Denny sturgis jr.and watch you tell denny "those arent my lost arrows" you sir provide goood memories.

Ron, Thank you for taking the time to provide us all with a bit of a journey down memory lane.

Life on a farm is still an active memory for me. Hard work, great food, best fellowship. Learning to make do with what was at hand, and being content with the options.

I understand hindsight can provide a more clear view than what we can see looking forward. But I have to wonder if all the technology in every aspect of todays life gets in the way of pure joy we all experienced in simpler times.

Thanks again, for giving us a chance to remember our ‘heritage’.

Technology gets in the way if we let it. Isn't that why we keep our archery rigs as simple as we choose?.......and our lives.

Nybubba

Me in 1949 training for hunting from trees.

Yes, most all of us can reminisce so much of this. Too lazy to dig out a 1949 photo of me in my Hoppalong Cassidy rig. Relatives say the first TV they saw was when Dad brought one home. I recall watching the Indian head test screen or a looped film of Niagra Falls since there was no regular programming yet.

Uncle Tiny was the Studebaker dealer in town. Dad was 12th of 13 kids on the farm so by my time Granddad down the road had mostly retired from farming, but grandma still kept the chickens and made the apple pie.

Swamp across the road from the farm had the town dump. My "job" was to shoot rats. At age 12 I was riding my bike through town with a .22 pistol on my belt to get to the dump...never hassled.

The same Dr. that delivered my Mom, delivered me. Kidding some, but we had only two area doctors. Mine served the Catholics, the other covered the Lutherans. Going through some major health issues and not all the simpler times were better.

Can't argue that modern medicine isn't hugely expensive and the cost control/coverage debates continue. But I'm just back from a procedure that didn't exist then and would have kept Grandpa and my Dad alive. When I first had it done myself 30 years ago it was days in the hospital. This AM I checked in at 8:00. Procedure complete, I was back home at 8:45 and no need for any recovery! Expensive? Yes, very. But I'm outliving Pop and Gpop and way healthier as a result.

Aside, had a young archer here yesterday. He was fascinated by my Parker fountain pen(s). Never seen one and couldn't process it when I said I was older than Ballpoints or TV and that handwriting was a required high school class, typing optional.

R.

Ron, this brings back good memories of my youth on the farm. Cow kicked me while I was milking when I was 8 and broke my arm. Loved the jersey milk with all the cream on top. Shake it before pouring, great milk. My dad would get ice blocks to put in the wooden ice box. Waiting for my dad to light a lamp when we got home at night. Live in a different world now. Good luck

Lol, I was born in this millennium. I wonder what it'll be like telling stories of my childhood in a few decades...

Me at 2 years old in 1938 getting a drink form my dog Tippy's water dish. A Mother today would be mortified if her kid did this. Back then my mother took my picture probably with one of those box cameras called a "Brownie" that you held at waist level and looked at the upside-down image in the viewfinder. Yes, things have changed.

We got Hall milk and bread delivered by the Armon van and sometimes groceries. We lived in the big town of 2000 people every tiny one horse town around us, less than 50 people, Newkirk, Middleburg, Carmel and lebonan had a grocery store. Delivery vans that said the location, 'Carmel store at your door'. The bread van was cool, I tried to buy it, it was still in use with original paint and I got outbid by a collector. There were always powered doughnuts in there. this was me and my bow when I was waiting for the doughnut truck.

Got our first TV in 1954. Big ole Philco table model. 3 channels and one was the Educational Channel (now called PBS) Back in those days I couldn't understand the PBS deal. I was a kid in school and hated homework and gonna come home to watch more homework? NBC & CBS and quite a while before ABC showed up. You had to have a converter box because THEY were UHF. Anybody remember roof top antennas? How about riding a bus for at least an hour each way to get to school? Cold in the winter and hot in the summer.

I was born in the late 70’s, and I always felt I was born 40 years too late. Reading through such threads just reaffirms that belief. Some great stories here. I can’t reminisce with most of you guys, but you sure got my imagination going, and I appreciate it.

Omar bread truck, the mind is going don'tya know.

Me and my first longbow in 1959. At that time, we still got our milk in a bottle but it was delivered by truck. We did get our garden plowed with a team of mules.

Excuse me. 1958. I just noticed the photo was dated when I looked at it sideways. :)

In the early 60s I shot my first bow in the back yard of the three storey apartment building we lived in. None of the neighbors complained. Do that now and cops be there shortly.

My first real job was paperboy and I made less than $1 a day delivering ~65 papers. Had to buy the canvas paper panniers plus the rubberbands as well. However back then $1 actually had some value about like ten bucks now.

You could buy gas for $.27 a gallon in the mid 60s. A few years later in high school about 1970 three gallons was $1, I filled my motorcycle for $.75. So see inflation occurred then as well.

Some of you guys probably remember back in the early 70s a burger fries and drink was $1. I remember back in the mid sixties a mom and pop burger joint here in the Springs sold ten little slider sized burgers for one dollar. Young folks reading this thread be telling their grandkids exact same stuff in thirty years.

Milk was easy for me. I was raised on a dairy farm and I had milk cold or warm. The only problem I had was I had to do the milking. I guess I have forgotten how much work it was because I miss that life style. I was raised during the late 40s and 50s so life was different during that period wasn't all bad. Ed

Great story Ron, when i had an old mare she always was ready to go home, great memories.

1970. Practicing safe archery:) didn't know anyone that bowhunted at the time and had to learn everyone through trial and error!

I talked to an old buddy from high school today...One of the things he said was..."remember when"...LOL ..we used to skip going to school, then go trapping or hunting or fishing.

Back then I used a 45# ben pearson recurve, he used a bear recurve I think around just under 40# high 30's.

Anyway we skipped school one day and went hunting, we climbed up in the limbs of trees across the hollow from each other. A doe walked under him and he shot her right in the noggin. Shot her right through the top of the skull , dropped her like a rock. The arrow only penetrated enough to pierce the skull, but down she went.

wasn't no compounds, no treestands, no name brand camo...life was still simple...and mom would still whip ya for skipping school..LOL those were the days.

In the 60s my friend's dad had a 1952 Plymouth. We really enjoyed shooting arrows nearly straight up. my friend was better at straight up than anyone. He stuck an arrow right through the roof of the '52 Plymouth. Nothing that a good wad of bubble gum couldn't fix.

LOL... dean that same buddy I mentioned in my above post worked one summer for a neighboring farmer for an old 4 door Plymouth fury 3 .

We stripped it of all the seats, put a bucket seat on the driver side and a 5 gal bucket on the passenger side to sit on. We'd load it with traps, coon dogs, hunting gear whatever.

Neither one of us had a drivers license but we'd run it up the neighboring farmers field lanes, checking traps, running coon dogs and hunting. didn't have a muffler and it was loud. We'd roll up through the fields in the wee hrs of the morning checking traps but nobody cared, back then, long as you were mindful.

I imagine now the law would lock ya up for it

I remember wearing a coon skin hat everywhere when I was a kid..

I had one too, in the Davy Crockett era. I wore that thing out!

That a morgan horse , the old breeding like I have and just love them. talk about change I looked on Zillow for bean settelment WVA where I spent a lot of time. taken over by developers. I will never forget the smell of apples in the basement.

Ron, that got the memory wagon moving.

My uncle had a dairy farm in south western N.Y. and I worked on it when I was young, we would milk the cows, load it in the delivery truck and take it to the next town for pasturizing, then delivered it door to door. People would leave notes on the milk box they had at their front door and we would leave what they wanted. The bottles were glass and the cream was three inches thick at the top with paper caps. there was also an ice man who had a horse drawn wagon and the horse would know where to go and when to go, amazing, smarter than some people I have seen these days. We used coal for heat and wood for cooking. That is what cellars were for, storing coal and the heater for the house, my uncle had no heat in their house they had the wood fired stove in the kitchen which was the place everyone gathered in the morning.

My first bow was one I made from a birch sapling and the arrows I don't remember, later we had a neighbor who made all his own archery equipment, he made me a couple of flu flu arrows.

I forgot to mention my other uncle was the local and very well known and respected village blacksmith. I could tell you stories about that man. His blacksmith shop was in our backyard and he lived upstairs in our two story house.

I could go on and probably write a book, but everyone has memories from the days when life was a little slower.

Growing up in Baltimore city in the 40s and 50s we also had milk delivered in the bottles with the round cream separator in them. We also had "A-rabers" who walked beside ponies pulling carts loaded with fresh produce down the alley shouting "Strawberrs, Get your strawberrs" in a loud melodious voice. We had to go to my grandfathers house to watch a 7" tv in a huge cabinet. Wasn't much on and the picture was poor with a "ghost" in it.

But my favorite memory was my Ben Pearson longbow I got for a Christmas present when I was 11. I'd shoot it over the chain link fence, over the alley and into the neighbors bank. When I bent over all the arrows would slide out of the back quiver. Probably why I still hate them.

Wish i could go back when i was the only bowhunter around.

Not high enough George !!!

Growing up in the Bronx in the 70s we also had milk dilivieries. I used to get earth worms from underneath the milk box and catch Tommy Cods and flounders in front of the house in the Long Island sound. We even shot our bows on the beach without anyone calling the cops. I’d love to go back to them days

I had ponys but liked the kuncklehead more Look foreword too seeing you at KY Tradfest Ron !!!

Thats a very cool ole Panhead JR ; )

Great thread!

Remember when mothers had their kid's baby shoes bronzed?...here's mine. I was a cute baby, I actually won a baby contest once but somewhere along the line I lost my cuteness...8>)

Ron, my brother and older sister, both had their baby shoes bronzed. The picture looks like the one that graced Gerber baby food jars for years. When I took my bowhunter safety course, in 1962, It was dubbed the Gerber baby food bowhunting test, due to the fact that the instructor was a sales rep for Gerber. He later won the NY state heavy tackle NFAA title. I am not sure if he beat Skip Palmer for the title, or if Skip did not compete that year. Skip was the PAA president around that time. bvd

Anyone remember fighting over the peach crate paper or the Sears catalog index? You know what I'm talking about! Not everything was better in the good old days:)

Waxed paper would have been better

We had Willow Farms Dairy when I was growing up. They delivered our milk, butter, eggs. I got my first bow & arrow set selling greeting cards while I delivered newspapers. That was from the back cover of Boy’s Life magazine.

Me and “Peanuts”, Corpus Christi Tx, 1952.

I always envy'ed you town kids that had the milk deliverer'ed. We had a Guernsey cow that had to be miked every morning before daylight. I did have my own horse. My dad was a part time mustang'er and we always had horse's around. The first bow I ever saw was one that K Hemert made one winter while in the boy scouts a choke cherry longbow. I was up in a Aspen tree come spring checking out a Hawks nest when K and a friend of his came up through the sagebrush stump shooting. I was enthralled to say the least and I have had a bow in my possession from that day on both store bought and hand made some good some terrible. I am staring at my 80th birthday this year. It has been a life long love affair. Lasted longer than both my wives:-)

Schools today need to bring back corporal punishment. Fix many problems. Going to the asst. princs off, ouch.

Ron, I liked it better 'then'. TK

Peanuts the Shetland Pony was not mine. He was owned by a guy who would bring him in a trailer, drop him off just for photo-ops.

Can any of you remember the first arrow you ever shot? I can. It went right through Mr. Adams' garage window. He and his elderly wife owned Adams Candy Company in Boise and made the famous Idaho Spud candy bar and other delectibles. He took it well and my older brother replaced the window and I got a candy bar out of the deal. I think the grand old classy couple enjoyed the chaos in the neighborhood.

It wasn't the second arrow, but very close to it, that the gang of little hooligans, all about 9 years old, convinced me to shoot an arrow straight into he air to see how far it would go up at the little neighborhood park that my folks now made me "practice" at. It was the original flight test, complete with three fletch and a target tip. My youthful recognition was it went straight up, almost out of sight, then started drifting, drifting slowly towards the road, where it hit the hood of a passing car. In unison, a half-dozen archery "gang" members took off, but not before watching the driver slam on his brakes, jump out, pick up the arrow off his hood, look at it for several long seconds, then quickly jump in the sedan and take off like his tale was on fire. There were no candy bars for that, but I did learn a life lesson and still carry a twinge of guilt thinking about the what ifs.

While we got a lot of lickings, I do believe people were more understanding, or tolerant, of youth and our overstated exuberance for all things wild and reckless--back in the good old days.

Scoop, I shot one in the air at our school field it went up and the wind was a little stronger up there than down where I was standing when that arrow came back in sight I watched it get closer and closer then I was backing up several steps at a time when that arrow hit the ground it was a couple of feet away where I was standing, needless to say I never did that again.

At the beginning of Summer, 1962, my Mom told me American Archery was having a sidewalk sale. I had been shooting my 25# Ben Pearson solid fiberglass bow, and I was just dying to get a real, “laminated recurve” with wood and fiberglass. I jumped on my bike, rode the 3 or so miles to Clarendon Hills, and started looking. I was like a one-eyed dog in a butcher shop. They had tables of bows, arrows, slingshots and boomerangs, quivers, and one big cardboard barrel full of bows. I found a 40/45# bow in that barrel, with green glass on the back, yellow on the belly. No model name, no tip overlays. I asked if $5 would hold it for me. They said OK, so I hightailed back home on my AMF Roadmaster to ask if my Mom would front me the other $15 so I could get it that day. I had ro wait ‘til I could talk to my Dad later that day. He agreed, they knew I’d pay them back in a week or two. I rode back up to American Archery, and brought that brown, green and yellow recurve back to my house. Every kid in the neighborhood came over to see it. I had one field arrow missing the point. Everybody wanted a turn pulling it back. Finally somebody said, “can it shoot an arrow out of sight? Yep, it went out of sight. We all realized we were in danger of being hit by that arrow when it came down. We ran over and stood under the eave by the garage. Looking across the field to see where that arrow had landed, we all watched in horror when we all saw Mrs. Wilson was getting out of her station wagon with a bag of groceries, and down comes the arrow and bounces off the hood of her car. Everybody scattered and left me standing there. Mrs.Wilson came flying down the sidewalk, as she knew where the arrow came from. I didn’t run, ‘cause I knew that would make things worse. She chewed me out, told my Mom, who then told my Dad later. I got grounded, my Dad sawed a bow I had made in half, and said the next time, I’ll saw your new bow in half. Understood, Dad. Never shot straght up in the air again.

Me in 1958 admiring mule antlers off a buck my oldest brother shot in eastern Oregon. Milk, cottage cheese, and ice cream were delivered to our porch. It was always a treat when we got an ice cream treat.

Funny, when my older brother got his bow, I followed him out to the plowed wheat field. He shot straight up, it went out of sight. He knew bow to keep a 7 year from following.

I turn 75 this year and remember spending most of my early years at my Uncles farm. That is where I got the hunting bug, but didnt get into archery until the early 50's when a friends dad gave me an old fiberglass bow and for 25 cents or 13 empty coke bottles I could get one wooden arrow. I never lost that arrow, but it did get alot shorter as I shot it LOL. Love those pictures and the many threads,and the stories. Doctor says I shouldnt shoot anymore due to disc problems in my neck. Maybe I should get another doctor????

I remember one time when I was 9 or 10, we still lived on the farm. I had gotten a real longbow probably lemonwood or hickory, from either Montgomery Wards or Sears Roebuck catalog. The year would have been 1945-46.

The arrows I had were wood with target points. One day my folks had to go to town and I road along. The car was parked on the street and I was left in the car while mom and dad were in the store. There was a hardware store nearby and I decided to check it out. What I found in the store was something I had been wanting for a long time...a real hunting arrow with a real steel broadhead on it.

I excitedly shelled out the 50 cents which was the cost of the arrow. That was a lot of money for a youngster back then but I had saved it from my allowance for just such a treasure as this.

I was back in the can when my mom and dad returned. When I showed them the beautiful arrow I had bought, instead of them being happy that I was so happy, my dad marched me back to the hardware to return the arrow.

I don't remember the exact words my dad told the man that had sold it to me but I just remember he was very angry at him for selling such a dangerous thing to a kid. I didn't understand then, I was just very disappointed that I had to return it. Of coarse my dad was right, I probably would have shot one of our chickens, pigs or Lord forbid a milk cow.

I still remember how the arrow looked, it had a two blade fluted broadhead, beautiful cresting and barred turkey feathers. It was probably a Ben Pearson hunting arrow like in this picture.

It would be many years before I would actually get another hunting arrow but when I did I was older and more responsible.......another tale from "back when"

Two things about MStyles story (he's my OLDER brother). Mrs. Wilson also had snapped that arrow in 4" long pieces , she was really mad. Also American Archery was only about a mile from our house. It may have seemed like 3 miles to a kid going for a new bow, and probably uphill both ways. Then there's the time I accidentally got his new lever action Daisy rifle buried by a Road grater. I won't say what happened to his Mandolin. Chuck S

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