July 10, 2023 - During the 40’s almost every boy in my hometown of Center, Texas owned a knife and a slingshot. We couldn’t afford air guns, but became quite proficient in building our own fine sling shots. Per-WWII Inner tubes (the red ones) were pure rubber and slingshot bands made from them would shoot a country mile. A good pair of scissors were required to cut our bands and the only one available at our house were those Mother used to cut our hair. And every time she cut our hair, she’d ask, “Have you boys been using my scissors?”
Our sling flaps we made from the tongues of old shoes and the stocks we cut from the forked limbs from the nearby willows. Our most accurate ammo were the smooth rocks we got from Weaver’s Lumber and china berries were a good substitute.
During the summer Bill, John, Joe and I would rise early, dig earth worms and head to Weaver’s Pond. Along the way our dog Jack chased rabbits, dug in armadillo holes with the same gusto that we boys had. Sometimes we carried our syrup buckets and picked blacked berries and plums near “the old home place.” Sometimes we’d get to the woods and find we’d forgotten something at home… but we never returned home skunked. With watermelon and sugarcane patches… and ponds of fish around, we’d never go hungry because we never left home without fish hooks, a pocket knife…
… and our trusty slingshots.
