Pea Shooters

While we lived in Renton, my parents joined the local Methodist Church. They developed many close, life long friends. And, although they maintained friendships from high school and their hometown, our family’s life centered on the families of the church.

We also grew up camping. I still own the giant 200 pound canvas tent we toted around in the red ’64 Dodge Dart station wagon, and later, the Chrysler. We had all of the camping gear you could imagine. We stuffed the car and tied more to the luggage rack on top. Sometimes when I think back on this, I wonder if people thought we were the Joads in the “Grapes of Wrath” – taking everything we owned. Only we had a nice red car and the Joads had the junkie truck.

One year when I was eight or ten we decided to go camping in the Okanogan with friends from church. It was a particularly northwest winter-like summer. It rained the whole week. But the tent was comfortable and dry except where we boys touched the sides. I was told more than once to “don’t do that or the tent will leak.”

When we weren’t around the camp fire, we were “holed up” in the tent playing cards.

On the way, the caravan of friends stopped somewhere – I can’t remember exactly where, but it was a small store and gas station. It was a perfect time for a “nature break.” We all bugged our parents for something, maybe ice cream, maybe some other snack. I don’t remember what the girls bought – probably candy. Steve got a peashooter and either cut it in half, or I got one too. My brother may have even had one but my memory says “no,” mostly because Steve and I took turns shooting at the girls or my brother.

Everyone knew about the peashooters, but they were never taken away. Just thinking back about those peashooters, I want one now.

We got a “talkin’ to” – maybe a couple of times. But – watching that pea pop off the neck or the back of the head of our siblings was something we just couldn’t resist. Thanks for the camping trip Dad! And, thanks for the peashooter Steve!

-Craig