The 30/30 Feeling

I guess I was about 10-11 years old when this event took place. That would mean it was the early 1950's. There is a little community in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Rock. It sits on M=35 just north of Gladstone, MI. In the early 1950's community members formed a Lion's Club. My father was a member of the Lion's Club in Munising, just to the northeast of Rock and was a very active member.

Rock's Lion's club held a festival to help raise funds to develop some financial underpinning for the organization. So one Saturday my Mother, Father and I got in the family Ford and drove to Rock to take part in the festivities and support the fledgling club. It seemed as though my Dad always knew people someplace. It wasn't long before my Mother and Father were visiting with people, spending a little money on some games and had given me five dollars to try my hand at what games of chance I might enjoy.

My Dad always told me that whenever you see four Lion's together you'd always find a 5th. So I am sure there was a little imbibing going on. It was a good time. New territory, games of chance, small rides, and food. What more could you ask for in a small town.

I was deep into outdoor lore then. I had many magazines that extolled the excitement surrounding fishing and hunting expeditions. I read Outdoor Life, Field and Stream and other outdoor magazines with gusto. I could imagine being on a bear hunt in Alaska, prowling the swamps and hardwood forests of my native UP looking for the elusive whitetail. A shotgun in the crook of my arm as I ambled through the fall color hunting the startling Ruffed Grouse, known in my area as a partridge. My imagination flamed with the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the kill and the reward of the fine food afterward.

As I walked through the throngs at the festival I happened by the stage area. There was the object of my dreams, a Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 rifle. It was first prize in a raffle. A raffle ticket cost $1. I still had $4 in my pocket so I bought four tickets. I than set out on a quest. I found empty pop bottles that I could turn in at food vendors for a nickel deposit refund. I scrounged and begged and tried all I could to come up with more money. I knew nothing about statistics and chance, I just knew that the more tickets I had the more opportunity I had to win that rifle. I invested heavily (emotionally) in that rifle. My Dad gave me some more money. I do not think he knew what I was doing with it. I feel like had he known he would not have been so generous because while he bought a raffle ticket or two he didn't see much future in the game as an investment or a sure thing.

By the time evening came and the stage show took place I had accumulated probably between 15 and 20 raffle tickets. I was absolutely sure I had more tickets in the raffle than anybody else. I had spent the day investing time, effort and emotion in collecting items to turn in, scrounging money and buying raffle tickets. I was dreaming of stalking whitetail deer in the swamps of Alger County. I pictured myself aiming the rifle, is spoke loudly and I was deadly accurate. My hunting knife was fastened at my belt, I had the traditional red plaid wool jacket and cap on, and the snow crunched under my boots as I came upon my kill. God, I could imagine that scene, it still excites me to this day. So I stood with my parents waiting for the drawing for the prizes sure that my name would be called when that Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 rifle was given away - to me!

There was the queen contest, the watermelon eating contest, gees my folks were making like we had to go. I persuaded them to stay till the drawing. I think they were beginning to see the level of importance this drawing had for me. Finally, it was dark, the park the festival was held in was lit with Christmas style lights and music played everywhere. The announcer intoned that the drawing for the raffle prizes would take place. I do not remember how many prizes were drawn for. I won none, and that was OK because I was going to win the rifle. The Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 rifle. When the person reached their hand into the drum to pull my winning ticket it seemed like the world stopped. A spot light came on and when my name was announced I would proudly walk to the platform, accept the rifle and receive the applause of many for my effort. Here it comes, the winning name, ME!

NOOOOO! It was someone else's name. Not mine, how could this be. I'm sure I had more tickets in the drum than anyone else. A mistake was made, but I knew there could be no redraw, no recount, no rifle, no Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 rifle. I was crushed. I couldn't show it. We turned and walked to the car. It was about an hour's drive home. I was in the backseat of the car with my dashed dreams of adventure and fun. I lay in bed that night working through my head what could've gone wrong. Maybe a few more empty pop bottles, maybe and another ticket, maybe, maybe, maybe.

I remember that feeling to this day. I remember wanting something so hard that it was a fervent prayer on my lips that needed answering. I remember the dreams and the desire so intense that it became the sole focus of my effort that day. I have had a few days in my life when I have had similar intensity in my wants. Not many, just a handful, perhaps less than 10. However I measure all similar situations against that one experience back in the 50's. I measure everything of similar intensity against what I call my 30/30 feeling.

As a postscript, on my sixteenth birthday my Dad and Mom gave me a Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 for Christmas. It was a thrill, I hunted with that gun and sometimes just took it and held it. It looked like the rifle used by Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, Lash-la-Ru, John Wayne, Gregory Peck and Jimmy Stewart. It didn't have as many shots, but it looked the same. It's weight felt solid and secure and I hunted with it a lot. I never killed anything, but it went to the woods with me just the same. In 1966 my Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 was in a storage unit in an apartment in Milwaukee where my parents lived along with some other firearms I owned. It was stolen.

I have never replaced it. However, my Winchester Model 94 Lever Action 30/30 remains the gun of my dreams and I use that experience to measure all intense emotion I experience. I have thought about buying another, but I just don't think it would be the same. I have thought about going to gun shows and finding an older model and purchasing that. That idea has appeal to me, but it is not "the" gun. I do remember exactly, however, the 30/30 feeling.