Joe Drewry teaches me to shoot my rifle
by Lloyd Foster
November of 1955 I turned twelve. That was a big deal. I was a man now in the fields. When I chopped cotton or bailed hay or drove a tractor for any of the other farmers, I drew “man” wages. We often did work for other farmers when they were short handed. Of course I could not keep my pay nor did I expect to. That Christmas in 1955 when I was twelve years old I, for the first time in my life, got what I wanted. I opened a box and pulled out a beautiful .22 single shot rifle! It was a Remington, used but in perfect condition. I was elated but shocked. Was Dad trying to mend fences?
I started the fifth grade in my new school at Greenfield, Tennessee. I liked everyone in my class and made close friends right away. Some time during the year I fell in love with Katy Jean Jaco who was in the forth grade. She would steal marbles from her big brother and bring them to me at school. Her Dad was also the Principal. My best friend was Larry Robinson and we did everything together. We caused a little trouble, mostly pranks and such but we never broke the law. By the time I was thirteen Theresia was fifteen and dating Joe Drewry. Joe was easy to talk with. Always thought before he spoke and knew everything. Tall and slender and full of wit and knowledge. I showed him my Rifle. He asked if I could shoot straight and I could tell he was serious and interested in my answer. I answered honestly that I could not unless whatever I was aiming at stayed a long time without moving. His mood remained serious. He started to say something, placed his hand on my shoulder and said gently,”Your Sister is waiting, We will talk later.” He came over on a Sunday, knowing we would not be in the fields that day. He came to see me this time. No date with Theresia. First he talked with my dad and then asked me to get my rifle and we would take a ride. The town dump was our destination. Lots of targets there in the form of bottles and cans and rats I guessed. Joe had something else in mind about shooting. He had brought his own .22 Rifle, bigger than mine and it had a clip. He picked up a coke bottle and handed it to me. “Butch” he said in his gentle way,”Throw this up as high as you can.” I sailed the bottle upward some
thirty or forty feet to watch it explode into a thousand pieces of glass raining down on us. He had my attention. “But how? How can anyone aim that fast?” “I’m going to teach you how today.” Well, he didn’t teach me that day but he didn’t give up either. We went shooting lots after that day. Sundays and some Saturdays and after school sometimes. Hours and hours of practice. I did learn. I began to think of Joe as my big brother. I had always wanted one. I remember telling Mom once,”Please can you give me a brother?” I must have been no more than five but I recall how she laughed. Not a regular kind of laugh. A long and loud laugh like I had never heard from her.She was highly amused. But she told me she would think about it.School remained routine through grades six, seven and eight. Larry and I acted crazy and disrupted the class numerous times. That is something I hate to admit. Teaching is a hard job at best and I made it harder. My grades were B’s and C’s but I finally made it to High School. Katy moved to Kentucky where her Dad had gotten a job at a school there. I started the ninth grade without a girlfriend.
High School demanded more of me and tolerated less of my wild and crazy ways. After a few trips to the Principals office, I started to settle down and get more serious about school. I could not participate in sports, such as football because I needed to get home and pick cotton for the remainder of the day. I was expected to pick a hundred pounds of cotton before dark. I had little time to do homework but I maintained about a ‘B’ average anyway. My older sister, Barbara, graduated and moved to Jackson, Tennessee and found work there. Theresia graduated and married Joe Drewry. My big brother who could do anything! How good it was! That left me the only child at home with Dad and Mom. Dad, who thought I could do nothing right and Mom who thought I could do nothing wrong. Mom was my anchor. Just her love and presence could carry me through the valley of the shadow of death. How I loved my Mother!We moved at least three more times while in High School. The farms were all local to the area so I didn’t have to change schools again. That was a relief for me and I coasted through school and graduated in 1961. I like to boast to people that I graduated in the top thirty of my class. sometimes someone will ask,” how many in your class?” I truthfully tell them “thirty one.”
I started the fifth grade in my new school at Greenfield, Tennessee. I liked everyone in my class and made close friends right away. Some time during the year I fell in love with Katy Jean Jaco who was in the forth grade. She would steal marbles from her big brother and bring them to me at school. Her Dad was also the Principal. My best friend was Larry Robinson and we did everything together. We caused a little trouble, mostly pranks and such but we never broke the law. By the time I was thirteen Theresia was fifteen and dating Joe Drewry. Joe was easy to talk with. Always thought before he spoke and knew everything. Tall and slender and full of wit and knowledge. I showed him my Rifle. He asked if I could shoot straight and I could tell he was serious and interested in my answer. I answered honestly that I could not unless whatever I was aiming at stayed a long time without moving. His mood remained serious. He started to say something, placed his hand on my shoulder and said gently,”Your Sister is waiting, We will talk later.” He came over on a Sunday, knowing we would not be in the fields that day. He came to see me this time. No date with Theresia. First he talked with my dad and then asked me to get my rifle and we would take a ride. The town dump was our destination. Lots of targets there in the form of bottles and cans and rats I guessed. Joe had something else in mind about shooting. He had brought his own .22 Rifle, bigger than mine and it had a clip. He picked up a coke bottle and handed it to me. “Butch” he said in his gentle way,”Throw this up as high as you can.” I sailed the bottle upward some
thirty or forty feet to watch it explode into a thousand pieces of glass raining down on us. He had my attention. “But how? How can anyone aim that fast?” “I’m going to teach you how today.” Well, he didn’t teach me that day but he didn’t give up either. We went shooting lots after that day. Sundays and some Saturdays and after school sometimes. Hours and hours of practice. I did learn. I began to think of Joe as my big brother. I had always wanted one. I remember telling Mom once,”Please can you give me a brother?” I must have been no more than five but I recall how she laughed. Not a regular kind of laugh. A long and loud laugh like I had never heard from her.She was highly amused. But she told me she would think about it.School remained routine through grades six, seven and eight. Larry and I acted crazy and disrupted the class numerous times. That is something I hate to admit. Teaching is a hard job at best and I made it harder. My grades were B’s and C’s but I finally made it to High School. Katy moved to Kentucky where her Dad had gotten a job at a school there. I started the ninth grade without a girlfriend.
High School demanded more of me and tolerated less of my wild and crazy ways. After a few trips to the Principals office, I started to settle down and get more serious about school. I could not participate in sports, such as football because I needed to get home and pick cotton for the remainder of the day. I was expected to pick a hundred pounds of cotton before dark. I had little time to do homework but I maintained about a ‘B’ average anyway. My older sister, Barbara, graduated and moved to Jackson, Tennessee and found work there. Theresia graduated and married Joe Drewry. My big brother who could do anything! How good it was! That left me the only child at home with Dad and Mom. Dad, who thought I could do nothing right and Mom who thought I could do nothing wrong. Mom was my anchor. Just her love and presence could carry me through the valley of the shadow of death. How I loved my Mother!We moved at least three more times while in High School. The farms were all local to the area so I didn’t have to change schools again. That was a relief for me and I coasted through school and graduated in 1961. I like to boast to people that I graduated in the top thirty of my class. sometimes someone will ask,” how many in your class?” I truthfully tell them “thirty one.”
