In the corner of the room near my desk are two .22-caliber rifles, a 20-gauge shotgun, and a BB gun. The single-shot .22 was my father’s when he was a boy, the six-shot .22 was the gift of a friend, and the shotgun was given me as a teenager and hasn’t had the trigger pulled in 50 years. The history of the BB gun is more of a mystery, but I suspect it’s the one I gave to my oldest son on his eleventh birthday.
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