I'm inspired to relate this story by a recent thread or two. This happened a couple of years ago.
We know this lady who is now 90-some years old. She was the wife of a farmer and also a public school teacher. Her husband had died years before, and actually had quit farming several years before that. The farm land was leased out to other farmers. She still lives in the farm house which is on the corner of two country roads.
Across the road on one of the roads, someone had bought the corner lot and built a house there, maybe in the 1950s or there about. The house recently sold and an older-middle aged guy moved in. Turns out he's a shooter.
Anyway this lady says, that guy over there is really a nut. He seriously has some screws loose. He goes out in the afternoon and sits at this little picnic table. He'll shoot his gun one time. Then he'll sit there, look, write things down, then he'll shoot again and wait, and look, and write, over and over again. Then he'll go look at what he's shooting at. Then come back and do it again, over and over until about 5 o'clock. He'll do this sometimes two or three times a week. I really don't know what's wrong with him. Why doesn't he read a book? Or take a walk? Or just do SOMETHING? I kind of feel sorry for him, but honestly I'm kind of worried too. Who knows what somebody like that might decide to up and do?
We know this lady who is now 90-some years old. She was the wife of a farmer and also a public school teacher. Her husband had died years before, and actually had quit farming several years before that. The farm land was leased out to other farmers. She still lives in the farm house which is on the corner of two country roads.
Across the road on one of the roads, someone had bought the corner lot and built a house there, maybe in the 1950s or there about. The house recently sold and an older-middle aged guy moved in. Turns out he's a shooter.
Anyway this lady says, that guy over there is really a nut. He seriously has some screws loose. He goes out in the afternoon and sits at this little picnic table. He'll shoot his gun one time. Then he'll sit there, look, write things down, then he'll shoot again and wait, and look, and write, over and over again. Then he'll go look at what he's shooting at. Then come back and do it again, over and over until about 5 o'clock. He'll do this sometimes two or three times a week. I really don't know what's wrong with him. Why doesn't he read a book? Or take a walk? Or just do SOMETHING? I kind of feel sorry for him, but honestly I'm kind of worried too. Who knows what somebody like that might decide to up and do?