Pennsylvania Game News - August 2015 - 39

for my birthday. I earned a small allowance each week for doing assigned chores
around the house and used that money to
keep the Daisy supplied with BBs. I was
taught to be responsible with the gun, but
I yearned for a "real gun."
The year I turned 13, a Mossberg .22
rifle was waiting for me under the Christmas tree.
Dad and I cleared the brush out of
an old stone quarry on our property. It
became the range where he would teach
me to safely shoot the rifle.
The next Christmas I received an H&R
Topper 20-gauge shotgun and again received instruction from Dad.
I never got to go hunting with my
father, but he made sure I had what I
needed, and that I knew how to use it
responsibly.
Dad always stressed to me the importance putting any game I took to good use.
It was never to be wasted.
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Albert Santucci, known to us as Uncle
Dupe, was my mother's brother-in-law
and Dad's best friend growing up.
Uncle Dupe was one of the few people
Dad trusted to oversee my gun handling.
The Bates and Santucci families each
had five kids. One of Uncle Dupe's boys,
Bill, was born the same year as I, and we
hunted together often during our highschool years.
Uncle Dupe got us afield and guided
us in those years. The year we turned 15,
Uncle Dupe accompanied Bill and me on
some of our first hunts.
After several excursions, I finally shot
a rabbit. Uncle Dupe showed me how to
field-dress my prize.
Later, I was invited to the Santucci
house for supper as my Aunt Rose cooked
my rabbit and another my cousin shot. It
was my first game dinner.
AUGUST 2015	

Although my uncle never carried a firearm when he was with us, he made sure
we were safe and we got our first taste of
what we craved so desperately at the time.
In the process, he helped lay the foundation for a lifetime of outdoor memories.
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Uncle Jim was my mother's brother.
He was a police officer and loved guns.
Uncle Jim had a core batch of firearms
he kept, and while I don't know how
many guns he bought or traded for over
the years, it was a lot.
He would purchase a gun, work up
loads for it, shoot it for a while, and then
trade it for a newer or more interesting
firearm.
The good news for me was that he
needed a place to shoot, because he lived
in town.
Through my teenage years, Uncle Jim
and his family visited us most Sunday
afternoons.
It was customary that he brought at
least one gun with him, and he used my
stone-quarry shooting range to try out the
newly acquired purchase.
Uncle Jim did the majority of the
shooting, however, he always saved a
few rounds for me and his sons to finish
his testing.
He might return with the same gun
for a few weeks, revising loads he had
developed, and then another new gun
would show up and he'd go through the
same ritual.
My mother has credited - blamed -
Uncle Jim for my love of guns and all
things related.
Uncle Jim opened his reloading room
to me on numerous occasions and put up
with me asking many questions about
what a certain piece of equipment did and
how it was used.
When I turned 18, he helped me select
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Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Pennsylvania Game News - August 2015
