A long-time archer reflects on 70 years of flinging arrows

Of course I remember, it was red. It was red and even then I knew it was big medicine. Not only that, I was with my father. We’d go over to a neighbor’s house, easily done as the big backyards ran into one another, where bales of straw had been set up against the wall of a large barn.
Talk about special! My presence was not only tolerated but encouraged. We were shooting our bows, real bows! And I got to shoot with the grown-ups.

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