A social history of the United States

In microcosm. Really micro, as deduced from the literary spawn of a fine loophole up in Windom yesterday.

Some time in the last one-fifth of the 20th Century an American patriot went on vacation; "patriot" because he chose to see America first by sightseeing in Duluth before skirting the Lake Superior coast and crossing into exotic Ontario, destination Fort William on the storied Kaministiquia River.

There he purchased a chapbook -- a guide to the post and superficial history of the Great Lakes fur trade. The booklet was interesting enough, though written in the see how cute I write style. But more intriguing is the single sheet of scratch paper our traveler stuck in it, his to-do-before-leaving list and his itinerary. It's easy to quote in full. He would be ready to roll after:

--Move state park sticker. This pegs him as a probable Minnesotan. Even then that SSR required a permit for damned near everything.

--Lay out route.  We have here a prudent middle American; leave nothing to chance on wilderness roads or sinister urban concentrations. We can safely suggest that he remembered his Boy Scout motto and was prepared.

--PVC.  PCV  He knew his engine sported such a thing and, probably, what it did and how to replace it, representing a significant difference between than and now.

--Bug Spray. This was not  this ol' boy's first time in the woods.

--Clean garage. No respectable man wants to come home to a mess. Besides, he might come upon a forgotten can of bug spray, saving a bit of money as well as a special trip to town.

--Write Instructions For Shooting & ; lodge I.D. This is the most enigmatic entry. So he was an Elk, a Moose, or an Odd Fellow and wanted to make sure he would be welcomed as a brother in the towns he visited? But shooting instructions for what? This actually is wonderful. Without mystery, history would  be a bore.

And finally on this side of the paper:

--Money Box.  See? I told you this was a competent American who knew the ultimate requirement of travel, foreign and domestic.

The other side was even briefer, five penciled blocks representing the calendar of his vacation.

Tues Duluth late

Wed Sight see Duluth etc. That "etc." raises questions. Duluth was even then a seaport, and things can get racy down on the waterfront. But what the Hell. It's your vacation and these days it's no worse than a bad cold.

Thurs Ft. Williams & Grand Pro(???) -- Look, I didn't  claim he was a careful speller or skilled penman. He meant Grand Portage.

Fri Finish Dulht (Duluth?) Head to L.F. 

Sat Head Home.

---

I wish you had had  more vacation time,  Friend.  Having to punch the clock on Monday morning was a bitch, wasn't it? Still is.

And I hope you are still alive, in good health, living among people who love you, and entertaining  grandchildren with tales of your expedition to the great northern forests.

The gun market

Mid-October , 2012, guns-only auction in northwest Iowa; all from one owner; all in excellent to NIB condition.

Porn update

A guy is lucky to have a friend like John, a liberrian in the GMA. He was understandably upset at the blurry Venus/Susan cheesecake I posted. (Honest, it was the best one I could find.) so he sought out a much better reproduction, and it now appears in the original post. Lechers of the world, rejoice! Go look and pant.

Junk on my bunk

Six pieces of it, sent my way through a friend for a value opinion and an offer. The friend will buy the scabby but working Remington 11-48  as a spare gun.

Leaving a neglected and butchered Remington 31, dinged, rusty, and with a receiver gouge that could only have been done with a grinder. It sports one of those old Lyman screw-on choke tubes, likely frozen in place. Too bad. It was a graceful gun from John Pederson who undoubtedly tipped his hat to Mr. Browning (PBUH) for some of the basic design.

Leaving also a J.C. Higgins bolt-action 12 gauge, a Stevens 16-gauge single, an Ithaca 72 (by Erma of West Germany)  lever .22,

And the heartbreaker, a Winchester 37 in .410,  bad enough to require butchering -- like this -- nearly unthinkable for an old Winchester.  Stock cracks and chips. Battered butt plate. Hints of blue highlight a motif of rust. It just spent too much time rattling around in the leaky rumble seat of a Model A.

My offer for all five is on the table, probably so low as to insult the owner, but high enough I really hope he declines. It isn't as though there are too few projects cluttering up evey damned horizontal surface I own.

(The cheap Ithaca is somewhat presentable and probably works. Having a little experience with Ermaverksjerks, I'd just shoot it until something breaks -- more likely sooner than later --  then screw it to a barn board and sell it to some older party who needs to decorate his rumpus room.)