Troublemaker

At our family gatherings, it never fails that someone brings up how my dad was always the troublemaker when he and my aunts and uncle were growing up. My dad has one brother, Gary, and three sisters. I never hear much about the girls, just the shenanigans Dad and Gary got into. Dad was the older of the two and seemed to be a little less… well behaved than Gary. A particular favorite for them to tell, and for me to listen to, happened when Dad was around nine years old. Now to get the full effect of this story, just picture my six foot three, three hundred pound father sitting next to his littler (in both senses of the word) brother as they both struggle to get the words out through their laughter.  

It was a nice day and the two of them had been playing around outside on the farm. Dad had gone exploring and found a shotgun Grandpa had left inside the old truck. As I have previously alluded to, Dad always found a way to get himself and Gary into trouble. (This is about the point in the story when everyone realizes what’s going to happen and starts to smile and shake their head.) Dad proceeded to put the gun together, something he had seen Grandpa do many times before. Dad may have been a troublemaker, but he always put safety first (so he says), because he decided it was best to lock Gary inside the truck before he actually shot the gun. With Gary safely inside, Dad shot the gun and managed to shoot the neighbor’s roof. He put the gun back, went inside with Gary, and “went to bed” in the middle of the afternoon.

Grandma was a bit suspicious of Dad going to sleep with the sun still out. She didn’t have to wonder for very long though because one of the neighbors came over and told Grandma what had happened. I’ll just say Grandpa wasn’t too happy when he found out about that one…