65. My Earliest Memory
Apparently, I have a lot of these but this one is not mine. It was late at night and I was three years old so memory is a bit vague. I wake up to a desperate knock at the door and walk out of my room. I see my dad taking his .44 mag revolver to the door. We lived in the middle of nowhere at this time of my life. It turns out that it was an honest hunter who had been lost in the woods for three weeks.
My dad woke up my mom (because he can’t cook for anything) to make the hunter some food and then drove him the 30 miles into town. He kept the revolver the whole time. Turned out fine though.
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