By: Joe Mayfield
As a young boy growing up in Hanceville, Alabama in 1958, I had been asking my Dad if I could have a shotgun for Christmas so that I could rabbit hunt like my Grandfather, Pa Mayfield. I had saved my money for almost a year, and had purchased a pellet rifle, which was the closest thing I had to having a hunting gun. At the time I was 12 years old, and would be thirteen in Dec. and rabbit season opened in Oct. Therefore, I thought I had better start talking it up in the summer of that year. I promised to be very careful, which was my mother's major concern, and she didn't seem to understand just how important this was. I had explained that I would only have it when I was with Pa, and he was always very safe, and I would be good for the rest of my life. I had been hunting with Pa using just the pellet rifle, and had been lucky enough to get my first rabbit, that was a very good day, one that I'll never forget, but in order to get off the porch and run with the big dogs I'd need a real hunting gun. I knew that my dad had grown up in the country, and he had learned to hunt, and put meat on the table at an early age, so I felt I could appeal to that, when discussing the subject.
I remembered that each year when Christmas approached, my mom and dad always had our tree up, and Santa Claus had dropped off some gifts, around the big churn our tree was placed into. I also recalled that each year on Dec. the nineteenth, my birthday, my mom always said "Happy Birthday, and since this is your birthday, you can pick any one of the gifts under the tree, and that will be your birthday present." Well, it just seemed that I was loosing one of Santa's presents due to it being my birthday, and that would cause Santa to be one gift short. As I made my plans to talk them both into a shotgun, I knew if there was a long box under the tree, then that's the one gift I would select for my birthday. It was unimportant to me if it was new or not, nor did it matter if it were a single shot, or a double barrel, just so long as it was a shotgun. I had been trapping for two years, but my real love was rabbit hunting, and my dad understood that.
Then one day while helping my dad deliver dry cleaning in Garden City, we were passing Mr. Ray Price's store, I didn't think much about it because we did his dry cleaning. When we walked in, I had no idea what my dad wanted to buy, but Price's was the kind of place that you'd see things that any hunter would want to have. There were pocket knives, and boots and guns, you name it, it was there, about that time Mr. Price saw us, and came over, "Hey J.C. how are you doing? My goodness, is that Joe, he's sure growing, is he a good worker?" I said hello, then waited to see why we were here, then my dad ask Mr. Price if he had any second hand small shotguns. Shotguns? Am I hearing things? I knew we didn't have much money, but we did OK, compared to others, I had friends that their folks could hardly afford just one gift. Yes, I knew that Christmas was about Jesus Christ's birth, even at that age I understood fully the real meaning of Christmas, and I knew why people exchanged gifts, but the real reason was to celebrate the birth of Christ.
Mr. Price said "I believe we have something, let's go look." At this point I'm shocked, and then my dad looked at me and winked one eye, as though we had a big secret. After walking behind the counter, Mr. Price asks "Is this about what you're looking for J.C.?" and handed my dad a .410 gauge, single barrel shotgun. "How much Ray?" "35.00 dollars." "Nope, that's too much, look, it has a scratch on the side of the stock." "Well, yes it does, tell you what, make it 30.00 dollars, and it's yours." "Nope, I'll tell you what, I'll give 22.00 dollars." "J.C. you know I can't do that, is this for Joe?" "It is if he's careful with it, but we'll go look around some." At this stage my 12 year old heart is pounding like a drum, and I'm thinking "NO, NO, I want it, scratch and all, please", but I knew better than to speak when my dad was talking, kids didn't use to talk when adults were talking. "OK, tell you what I'll do J.C. give me 25.00 dollars and it's yours." "Well, I don't know, tell you what I'll do, throw in a box of rabbit shot, and a can of 3 in one gun oil and I'll give 25.00 dollars." "Oh J.C. I have to make something on the deal." And I'm thinking wait, wait, I'll trade my pellet rifle; just don't let it get away. At that point Mr. Price looked over at me, and asks, "This going to be your first shotgun Joe," and I said yes sir. "OK, J.C. you've got a deal." I'll bet I had a grin from ear to ear. Oh, sure I knew they were having fun with all the wheeling and dealing, and most likely enjoying the expressions on my face as they went through all of this trading process.
That is one Christmas I'll never forget, the shotgun was never wrapped, and it had to stay at Pa and Ma's house, but that was fine with me, I never hunted without Pa anyway. I didn't mind my birthday present coming from under the tree anymore, and I just looked at the gifts as though Santa was giving me my birthday gift. Times were different then, almost all boys hunted, as did the adults, and everyone practiced safe gun handling skills, those were good times.
MAYFIELDS CORNER
Santa Claus: Always Short one Gift
By: Joe Mayfield
Published in U. S. Legacies December 2004
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