It was six months ago, on the morning of this date, my Dad passed away.  Despite realizing this was coming up last week, I managed to go most of the day without consciously thinking about it.  However, I was quite cranky, impatient, and irritable this morning during class.  There are a couple people in class that grate on my nerves, sometimes on levels I didn't think were possible.  Today both were doing an exceptional job of pushing my buttons without them even knowing it.  Thinking on it now, I believe I knew what today was on some level and that would explain my poor attitude this morning.  I always knew that I would miss my Dad, my Mom too for that matter - thankfully she's still around, but I never realized just how much.  While I talked to Mom on my cell phone in the lobby at work while waiting for my wife tonight, I almost broke down.  Thankfully, there weren't too many people around if I had.  Not that it would be a bad thing for people to see me cry.  I guess I'd rather not be public about my grief.  It made for a difficult ride home on the bus until I fell asleep.

 

After work tonight, my wife and I stopped at Target to pick up something easy for dinner and I picked up something for myself with my wife's insistence.  22 years ago, I stayed home sick from school.  My Dad picked up the G.I.Joe Conquest X-30 jet for me as a get well present from the local K-Mart.  I loved that toy and played with it a lot, despite being in my early teens.  I still remember sitting in bed and tearing into the box, putting on the stickers and "flying" it around, combating imaginary Cobra jets.  I no longer have that toy, gone with almost all the rest of my childhood Joe collection.  They whys aren't important.  What is important is that Hasbro re-issued the jet as a Target exclusive in it's 25th anniversary line.  When I saw it tonight and told Mrs. GripX about how my Dad got it for me back in the day, she insisted I have it.

I feel like crying and I think I will.  I love and miss you, Dad.

Forty-nine years ago, on this day, my parents were married by the Justice of the Peace in the my Mom's home town of Wiesbaden (pronounced veez-bah-den), Germany.  Today marks the first time Mom will be alone on this anniversary.  Nothing specific was planned for this day except for Dad to have been home for about a month after his stay in the hospital earlier in the year which he didn't return home from.  I would have gone over to their place after dropping off the wife at the bus depot and spent some time with them.  I imagine that my wife and I would have gone over in the evening after she got home from work for a nice anniversary dinner prepared by Mom.  Instead, Mom and I will be visiting Dad at the cemetery and eat out at Shari's afterwards.  She doesn't know it yet, but I intend to pay.  I don't remember ever treating my parents to a meal out, which I regret, but I'll get the chance to make it up to Mom today.

I don't know what I'm suppose to do or say in a situation like this.  Today serves only to rip open what little scab formed since Dad passed away.  I can't imagine what Mom is going through or will be going through until I get there later this morning.  I will do my best to give her the best day possible, considering the circumstances.  Happy anniversary.

I awoke early this morning from a dream.  It started with me in a department store with friends.  A celebrity was coming to town, for the life of me I can't remember who, and we thought it'd be hilarious to have him sign used video game equipment and old video game cartridges.  As the crows of people around me grew, we decided on having him sign a large spoon, slotted together with something else by way of a cheese slicer.  Several of us were trying different things, but nothing seemed to work.  I had an idea to check other items in the store and went off in another direction, saying to myself, "Think, Jazz, think."

Slowly, I started to become Jazz from the Transformers, a hybrid of the new animated version, the movie version, and the original.  I could hear cheering, which meant that a solution was found where I was.  I rushed back only to find everyone gone to get their autographs. As the store was closing, the lights went out and I, as Jazz, grabbed some cardboard boxes to break down for recycle.  As I enter the back room, I hear narration, "Jazz knew this would be the last time the store would be quiet this time of night... and he was right."  I turn to see something glistening just past the doorway and I throw a round piece of cardboard at it.  It misses and then... I wake up.

Earlier in the dream, or perhaps in another dream altogether, I was teaching my teenage daughter (who does not exist in real life) how to drive, with my Dad.  We drove all around town and she proved to be a chip off the old block by having a lead foot.  She got two speeding tickets and then at some point, my Dad and I watched from outside the car as she got a third and was hauled down to the police station.  See, they had a three-strikes rule with learning drivers.  Once at the police station, I watch the officer pull up all the charges, some quite expensive.  The officer said that she showed no remorse at going over 15 mph the speed limit.  The total due was over $2,000.  My Dad balked at that and asked how she was going to be able to afford that.  I chimed in that even we, referring to myself and Dad, couldn't afford that.  To the best of my knowledge, the dream didn't resolve itself.

It's coming up on four months since my Dad passed away and while I find myself easily distracted by work and hobbies, things just haven't gotten a lot better.  I know it will take time, a lot of time, for the pain to subside, but there are still times when I can't believe he's gone.  He should still be sitting in his favorite chair in his home, reading his books, and he isn't and there are times when nothing seems to help.

I am especially worried about my Mom.  She's having an even harder time, especially with their anniversary coming up on the 26th.  She's not been sleeping well and has constant headaches which I believe are caused by stress.  She keeps going over the night he fell and the day he passed away in her mind, asking questions that no one can answer.  She's also isolated herself from the rest of the family as they have disappointed, and in some cases abandoned, her during this time.  Mom doesn't want to seek counselling, insisting she work things out on her own, so I don't press the issue.

With the anniversary and, later, the holidays coming up, I just wish this year would end already.  I feel as though I don't have anything to look forward to the rest of the year, not that I expect next year to be any better.  After all, we've been going through pain and death since 2006.

I apologize for the negative nature of this post, but it's how I'm feeling at the moment.  Hopefully, tomorrow will bring positive energy and hope.

In the days that immediately followed the passing of my Dad, I sought out self-help books on the subject. I almost gave up after a visit to Borders, where all I could find were books on daughters that lost their mothers but nothing on sons losing their fathers. Thankfully, my wife is more eagle-eyed than I am and found Fatherloss by Neil Chethik after I looked through the grief books. And though it has been three months since I started this book, I have yet to finish it as a standard read.

Fatherloss is a great book that can help any man after the loss of their fathers realize that you are not alone in what you're going through, which is exactly how I felt. Over 300 men were interviewed for this book and many examples are cited throughout. Mr. Chethik does a wonderful job in categorizing different types of feelings surrounding the loss of a man's father, usually by age. Even though I fell into the third category (out of four), I read through the other categories and found examples of people younger and older than me who experienced similar feelings.

Where this book fails is in it's repetitive nature. A little over half-way through Fatherloss, I discovered the pattern and it ruined my enthusiasm to completely finish reading it. An example is given, the author will talk about, cite another example that is contrary to the previous, talk about that one, spout off percentages and numbers that I feel only a statistician could benefit from, and repeat. Even in the final chapters of the book, this is the case, and so I write this review with two chapters left to read as I've skimmed them and they fall into the same pattern.

Despite that, I do recommend Fatherloss: How Sons of All Ages Come to Terms with the Deaths of Their Dads. Read it like a manual, skip to the sections you feel will be of the most use, and not as a standard book. I've come away from the book with this, we may all experience the same loss at some point in our lives but no one will ever feel exactly how you feel because they didn't have your relationship with your Dad and, for better of for worse, that's okay. Have a strong support group in family, friends, online buddies, co-workers, or a therapist and you can get through it. The pain may still be there, but you don't have to go through it alone.

1.) We had a good time at the Tulalip Casino on Tuesday, in memory of my Dad, who would have been 78 that day.  We even won a little bit on the slot machines thanks to a combined effort of my Wife and Mother with a little luck from Dad, shining down on us.  Thanks for a great day, Dad.

2.) I often wonder what it's like in Heaven.  What do you do?  I'm sure they don't just watch us all day long.  I think that would get boring after a while.  Maybe they have volleyball or checkers up there.  Regardless what they do, I'm sure it's good fun.

3.) I just finished watching an episode of Family Guy, where Tom Tucker becomes Peter's step-dad for a brief time.  At one point in the episode, Tom and Peter go out for milkshakes.  Now, I want a milkshake.  But, it's only 7:30 in the morning and far too early for one.  Maybe I'll have one at lunch today.

... being on summer vacation in grade school.  Dad would call home every day during lunch time and when it was my turn to talk, I would twist the receiver cord and tell him I was twisting him.  I'd ask if he felt and he'd humor me by saying he could.

... being tickled by Dad and he would ask me if it tickled, to which I told him no so that he would keep tickling me.  He responded, "I think you're lying," as he continued the tickle torture.  What I heard him say was, "I like your lion."

... getting a spanking by my Dad after I threw a tantrum and broke an expensive Lego set by stomping on it.  I don't even know why I threw the tantrum.  You can bet I never threw another.  Dad later told me it hurt his hand a lot.

...  going with Dad to Sears in the summer of 1984 where he bought me my first Transformers toy, the Autobot Gears.

... Dad teaching me to drive by taking me on lessons around the neighborhood once I got my permit.

... going to dinner at the Olive Garden with my parents, my wife (then-girlfriend), and my friend Eric and his girlfriend at the time.  My Dad tried to show Eric's girlfriend how to use the spaghetti spoon because, as he put it, "she looked like she was having trouble getting it up."  All us 20-somethings laughed and my parents didn't get what was so funny.

... how relieved we all were when Dad finally came home after almost losing him to two aneurysms in 1998.

... taking road trips with my parents to Leavenworth, WA, the Tulalip Casino, and other places.  Dad always enjoyed them, no matter where it was, because it got him out of the house once he started having trouble getting around on his own.

... watching him slip away in his sleep 13 weeks ago today and the anguish knowing that I would never get to tell him all the things I needed to tell him and knowing the and children we have would never know what a great man their Grandfather was.

I'm doing this late Wednesday night while these are on my mind since I have to work early on Thursday.

1.) I want more out of life than what I have, but I'm not sure what it is or how to get it.

2.) I'm afraid of confessions.

3.) I never realized how much my Dad meant to me until after he passed away.

I wasn't sure I wanted to post this or not.  But, after watching the the DVD for the second time, I've decided that I want to share the eulogy I wrote for my Dad with the world.

"My Dad, Richard Mistron, was a handsome, New York City boy, who spent many days playing with fire hydrants and running through the streets with his friends.  One day, during one of his many adventures, he was walking along the top of a fence and fell from it.  On his way home, he found a Bazooka Joe bubblegum wrapper on the ground.  Instead of continuing on his way to report the fall to his parents; he stopped to read the comic strip printed on the wrapper.  That was how Dad was; he always had a sense of humor no matter how grave the situation.

Dad got his sense of humor from his Father, Charles.  As a child, when he would get mad at his Dad, he would lock himself in the bathroom.  His Father would draw little cartoons of Dad in the bathroom and slip them under the door to make Dad laugh.  It always worked and they would resolve whatever the problem was.

Dad grew into a man, and like many men, he signed up for the military.  Dad’s enlistment came at an interesting time in military history.  The Army and the Air Force split, and when Dad was given a choice as to where to attend basic training, his choice of a Texas boot camp led him down the path of the Air Force.  Dad proudly served in the Air Force for almost 27 years, many of those as an aircraft mechanic and foreman.

Dad traveled the world during his time in the Air Force, but it was when he was stationed in Wiesbaden, Germany with his friend Bill, that his life would change forever.  Bill was going out with a young lady who had a couple friends.  Bill told Dad that both were available and Dad said he would “take the short one.”  And that’s how Dad met Mom in July of 1959.  Everyone knew when Dad was coming to pick up Mom because he had a pink Oldsmobile.  The Oldsmobile was pink due to a misunderstanding about the color he selected when he bought the car.  So Dad stood out wherever he drove.

It was a short courtship.  Dad was heading back stateside soon and he knew Mom was the gal for him, so in September of that same year, they were married.  For the remainder of his time in the service, they moved across the US, calling home to Nebraska and Maine before settling in Tacoma, WA, where Dad was stationed at McChord AFB.  Less then two years before he retired from active duty, they had their only child, Richard Charles.

After a year stationed in Alaska, Dad retired from the Air Force in 1974 and worked a few odd jobs here and there, including a job at a garden center near home.  During my childhood, Dad would take me everywhere on the weekends.  He reasoned that Mom had me during the week, so the weekends were his.  He would take me on the ferry to Vashon Island where I learned what a tourist trap was, we would go for walks in the woods in our neighborhood where houses now stand, and I would always go garbage dump with Dad to help him get rid of yard waste.  On the way home from some of these trips to the dump, we would stop by Mike’s Burgers for an ice cream cone.  The only condition was that I wasn’t to tell Mom.  It was to be our little secret.  There were a couple times I let it slip, but nothing ever came of it.

In 1976, Dad started his second career at Ft. Lewis in Billeting and eventually became the Housing Manager.  He retired from civil service with the Army in 1992.  One of Dad’s favorite stories from when he worked for the Army was about the time a couple of young soldiers didn’t show up on base until a day after they were supposed to.  They presented Dad with a bill from a hotel somewhere in Tacoma for the previous night.  When asked why they didn’t just report to base housing, they replied, “We drove up and down I-5 from Tacoma to Seattle and couldn’t find Ft. Lewis.”  Dad didn’t buy it, since Ft. Lewis is rather hard to miss of the interstate, so he gave the bill back to them.

Once retired, Mom and Dad traveled together to various spots around the world including Maui, the Grand Canyon, Mexico, Canada, and Germany.  Unfortunately, the trips started to slow down in 1998 when Dad’s health began to decline.  Eventually, Dad became dependant on a walker and wheelchair to get around.  But, he never complained.  He said that it is what it is.  Dad bounced back from some serious health scares in the past, so when he fell last month, we hoped he would do the same again.  For a while, Dad seemed like he would beat this latest episode.  Regrettably, this time, Dad faced a series of health challenges that he just could not overcome.  When he passed, Dad was surrounded by those who loved him and his presence will remain with us all for the rest of our days."

During my daily call with Mom this evening, I found myself smiling.  I realized that I was probably the only person she talked to today.  Not that I find that a good thing, but it made me realize that I'm appreciating the time I spend with my Mom, be it in-person or on the phone, a lot more these days.

Before Dad passed away, I didn't look forward to calling my parents as Mom would go on and on about things I just didn't find interesting and she didn't seem to give me time to say anything I might want to talk about.  Dad and I didn't talk much on the phone, but I always enjoyed those silent talks.

Now, I find myself caring more about what she has to say.  I try a little harder to do more talking now too and I think our relationship is getting better.  However, I wonder if I'm being too overprotective of her now that Dad's gone.  Maybe that's normal.  I don't know.

I do know that I miss those times where Dad and I both struggled to find something to say.  "We'll see you when we see you," he'd always say in closing before we said we loved each other.

1.) We got the DVDs of Dad's Memorial and Honor Guard services this afternoon.

2.) I took them to Mom's after I picked them up, which was after work today.

3.) I was torn if I wanted to watch it.

4.) We did.

5.) It was hard to watch, especially during the eulogy and the playing of Taps.

6.) I'm glad we watched it though.

7.) In the past two days, I've bought three Transformers.

8.) They're all cool in they're own way.

9.) The new Soundwave comes with a guitar that turns into Laserbeak.

10.) I wonder what Dad is doing right now.

I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but in case I didn't here we go.  During my Dad's time in the Air Force, he worked as an aircraft mechanic, primarily on the KC-135 Stratotanker.  In talking with my Mom tonight, I was reminded of the particular aircraft and so I thought I'd share an image of it I found at Air Force Link.

I never knew my Dad when he worked on those, so it amazes me that my Dad was a part of something like that.  Those things are so huge and he fixed them up.  Cool!  Mom told me tonight that Dad said he could take apart an airplane engine and put it back together, but he couldn't do the same to a car engine.  I think I remember him telling me that too, back in the day.  What a nice stroll down memory lane phone call with Mom was.  Thanks, Dad.

I awoke this morning from a dream that I wish I could have experienced longer.  So, I came out to the living room to blog about it before I completely forget all the details.  That and it's excruciatingly hot in the bedroom.

In the dream, Mom and I would go about things, but there would be this man following us.  It would turn out to be my Dad.  While Mom embraced the idea that he was back, I remained somewhat skeptical.  I mean, we have the cremains, right?  At one point, we're walking along a windy mountain road that is actually on an island.  Mom is uncharacteristically ahead and I find myself shouting at Dad to catch up as he stopped to look at something in the water by a guard rail.

We eventually made it home and I try to confront Mom with the fact that this couldn't be Dad because Dad is dead.  She wouldn't hear of it and went into the garage to get him.  I started to think about her sister, long since passed away, and then my Aunt was standing right there beside me.  I thought that this would prove to Mom that this couldn't really be Dad.  So, when I showed Mom that her sister was back and told her how strange this was, she replied with something along the lines of, "Yes it is a strange day, isn't it?"

Dad came in from the garage and I found myself dressed in some weird, open-helmet Star Wars costume and pointed a toy lightsaber at him as he was going to, what I felt was literally, disappear into the dark hall leading to the bedrooms in my parent's home.  Now, Dad was dressed as Darth Vader, who he always told me was his favorite character from Star Wars (the original trilogy), and I followed him into the darkness, my lightsaber giving off enough light to keep him in sight.

The pursuit ended in the 1/2-bath in the master bedroom, which is barely large enough for two grown men to stand in, and I said in a semi-serious, semi-playful tone that I wanted him to reveal himself.  Darth Vader took off his helmet and costume to reveal my Dad.  I was overjoyed and gave him a kiss and a hug.  Realizing how wonderful it felt to hold him again, and it did feel so real in my dream - so wonderfully, fantastically real, I gave him another kiss and another hug.

"I know what's going on here," I said as he started to tie a weird cloth mask around his face.  "I know that you're dead.  You have to stop tormenting Mom.  She's been through so much."  He replied with something like, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," or something along those lines.  I started to rebuke him when I woke up.

I sat there for a moment and wanted to cry, but didn't.  Instead, I grabbed my plastic water cup from last night, came out to the living room and lit Dad's memorial candle, refilled the cup with ice and water and as I waited for the computer to boot up I talked to Dad through the candle thanking him for the dream.  I talked about a few other things, but I tried to focus on the positive side of things, especially those hugs and kisses.

Man, those felt really good.  Really, really good.

1.) Over a month ago, I saw a Father's Day card at Target while Dad was in the hospital. It was a kiddie card with Optimus Prime from the 2007 movie on the front and when you opened it you heard him say, "Autobots, transform and roll out." Dad wasn't a big Transformers fan, but he knew I liked them and I thought it would be a goofy card to give him as a gag. I walked around with it in hand while I shopped, but when I got to the cashier, I decided to put it back. I think on some level I might have known Dad wouldn't see it.  After he passed away, I saw it again and this time I bought it.

This past Sunday, on Father's Day, I wrote in it, thanking him for all he did and how I missed him, and took it with me when we went to the cemetery. I left it by his marker as we stood there in silence. Mom asked if she could take it home with her since they'd likely just throw it out after a while, so I said yes. Now it hangs in his bedroom, still sealed. But, I'd like to think he read it somehow.

2.) Today, I was helping Mom out by cleaning the back gutters of her home.  Two years back, my parents had a new roof installed, but apparently they didn't clean up their mess, so there was a lot of old roof crap in the gutter.  On one side, as she showed me yesterday, two small trees were growing out of the drain pipe.  I pulled them out and tried to dig the stuff out, but it was packed in good.  So, I went from one end to the other, shovelling and grabbing the larger pieces then I went back through with the hose and moved the remaining sludge to the other end and down the good drain pipe.

Mom has a "snake" that she used when Dad would clog the toilet so she wouldn't have to pay a plumber $95 for 15 minutes of work.  I tried using that on the clogged end to no avail.  I felt a sort of whisper in my ear that said to try blasting the crud with the hose.  So, I grabbed the nozzle and slowly began to barrel water into the clog.  Some stuff seeped up and out, so I scooped it away and continued to shoot water into the drain.  Next thing I know, Mom's hollering that water was coming through at the bottom.  I kept going and soon the drain pipe was clear.  I'd like to think that whisper I heard was Dad lending a helping hand.  Thanks, Dad, for continuing to look out for us.

I went over to Mom's house this morning to help her hang up the various certificates and what-not in Dad's bedroom.  See, it used to be my bedroom when I lived there.  After I moved out, it was a guest room or sorts and when Dad's health started to decline about 5 years back, he moved in since it was right across the hall from the bathroom.  Now, it serves as a memorial to the greatest man I've ever known.  God, I miss him.

We started with the flag that was presented to Mom at the Honor Guard service last Friday.  We bought a case for it and hung it in the center of the wall.

Next up came the display case Mom put together using some of Dad's ribbons, the only medal of his he didn't throw away (don't ask, I don't know why and neither does Mom), three of the shells from the 21 gun salute at last Friday's service, and a few decorations Mom's picked up here and there.

After that, we hung Dad's Air Force retirement certificate and Mom's appreciation certificate for, as she put it, "being a good Air Force wife."

Up next came a plaque from the Air Force for outstanding performance in quality control inspection.

Then came the three pieces from the Air Force memorial that Dad was a charter member of with a donation he made a number of years ago before it was built.  They wouldn't photograph to well and my camera is on the way out thanks to our kitty, so I took a group shot of the wall before the final pieces were put up.

And lastly came a variety of certificates thanking Dad for 35 years of military service (both Air Force and Army) and then 40 years, retirement from his civil service in the Army, and appreciation certificates for him and Mom.

It was a fun and somewhat frustrating time since I didn't get the bottom row terribly even.  It was more fun than not and I was more than happy to help Mom out with this.  I can't wait to go back and look at it all again.

From the 6th grade through most of my high school days, I had a best friend named Paul.  Sometime during high school, he moved from Tacoma to Everett with his parents and we slowly drifted apart, but I would visit him occasionally and we talked on the phone often.  A year after we graduated, I got a call that he was getting married and he wanted me in the wedding party.  Here's where things go awry.  I was (and in some ways still am) a momma's boy and Mom didn't like the idea of me driving from Tacoma to Everett so she managed to talked me out of it and I told my best friend in all the world that I wouldn't be there on the most important day of his life.  We would talk on occasion after his wedding, but eventually we lost contact.

Throughout the years, I've tried to get back in contact with Paul, but every time I get close to finding his phone number, it would cost money and usually quite a bit.  It may sound cheap of me, but all I wanted was a phone number and didn't think that I should have to pay $50 or more for what should be free information.  So, every once in a while, I would try only to be blocked by large fees.  Looking back, maybe I should have just coughed up the dough.

Yesterday, I decided to try again and got a lot more information than previous attempts, just no phone number.  I really felt compelled to find him this time around, mainly to let him know about my Dad's passing since he knew my parents so very well.  Then, I remembered his Dad's name and got a phone number!  I jotted the number and called.  His Mom answered and soon we were reminiscing about days gone by almost 20 years past.  She graciously gave me her Son's phone number and after a couple minutes of crying with joy, yet fearful of what I would say and what he would say, I called.  He was taking a nap.  So, I left my name and number and hoped and prayed he would call back.

He did.

We must have talked for almost 3 hours, catching up on things and remembering embarrassing times we shared.  Halfway through the conversation, I brought up the wedding and gave him a long-overdue apology.  He told me that he hadn't thought of that in years and though he was mad at me, and rightfully so, for a long time, he was over it and told me not to hold onto regrets.  For the first time in almost 20 years, I've felt like a great weight was lifted from my shoulders.  My heart feels less heavy now.

We've made tentative plans to see each other during the summer sometime after baseball season is over (he coaches for one of his sons) when they'll be less busy.  I'm really looking forward to seeing him after all these years and meeting his family.  Since he live near his parents and sisters, I'll get to see them again too.

I'd like to think my Dad had a hand in getting my friend and I back together again.  If it weren't for him passing away, I wouldn't have felt the need to contact Paul again after all these years.  Granted, I would still like my Dad to be around.  I miss him terribly so.  But, I am glad to finally be reunited with the best friend I've ever had, not counting my wife of course - that's different.  Thanks, Dad.  It's nice to know you're still looking out for me.

1) Considering I only worked 2 days in the month of May, work went well for me yesterday.

2) I find that talking to someone, in person, for the first time about my Dad brings me to tears.

3) Subsequent conversations seem to be fine.

4) I wish I knew why that was, but I'm not concerned.

5) I preordered LEGO Indiana Jones for the PSP last week.

6) Gamestop called me last night about it.

7) I will pick it up this morning when the store opens.

8) Only 1 hour and 20 minutes left to wait.

9) I'm finally eating breakfast after being up for over an hour.

10) A bowl of Apple Jacks.

A Collection of Creative Writing about Grief and Healing.

When I was a young boy, I found my Dad's pellet gun (a Crosman Mark I Pellgun Target PIstol to be precise) that he used to shoot before I was born.  He let me hold it and practice aiming, but didn't let me fire it off since, if I remember right, he didn't think Mom would like me shooting a gun even if it was only a pellgun.  I was told not to play with it and not to point it at anyone.  But, I would find myself, every once in  while, going for it when my parents weren't around, not like Dad hid the thing.  It would drift into and out of my hands from time to time, but I never took it outside or fired it and I can only guess the hows, whens, and whys Dad used it.

When I moved out of my parent's home, Dad let me take it with him.  When I moved in with my wife, then fiancee, in 2000, I brought it along and tucked it away under the bed.  This morning, I pulled it out for the first time in years.  The box lid has seen better days, but the piece itself is in pristine condition.  It's heavy too, even to my adult hands, so I can only imagine what I thought when I held it over 30 years ago.  There are still pellets in the container that sits in the box with the gun and manual.  Man, those things are tiny.

I started to search online for information about this gun and it's possible worth since it is over 30 years old, not that I'd ever dream of parting with this beauty.  Based on the model and serial number, I can only guess that this particular gun was made somewhere between 1966 and 1975.  Anyway, while I couldn't find much about value outside of ordering an expensive book I only need for one entry, I did find this site that has a wealth of information I've not gone through completely yet.

Holding it in my hand and looking at the box gives me a sense of piece.  I can feel Dad here with me.  I really should do some target practice with this.