I know it might sound odd, but one of the many things I love about the Christmas season is a movie. I seldom want to see a film more than once but I can watch “A Christmas Story” every holiday season, and it just gets better with time.

    If there’s anyone unfamiliar with this holiday classic, it’s the hilarious story of a young boy, Ralphie Parker, and his family during December in the late 1930s or early 1940s. The main story line follows Ralphie’s attempts to get an “Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle,” to which everyone replies “You’ll shoot your eye out.”

    Like Ralphie Parker, there was once a time when all I wanted was a BB gun. My wildest dreams were fulfilled when I was seven and my Grandpa McClain handed over the box one summer evening. It was an official Daisy Red Ryder.

    My grandparents owned four acres of New Mexico’s finest ground covered in clumps of dry, yellow salt grass and a grove of salt cedars just outside of Roswell. That’s where I learned to hunt.

    For a second grader, big game consisted of any lizard over six inches. Upland bird hunting meant hiding in Grandma’s chicken coop and shooting sparrows as they came to eat or drink in the chicken pen. Exotic and dangerous game meant snakes. Since I was severely undergunned for most dangerous encounters, this usually meant I had to run back to the house as fast as I could and get my dad to bring a shotgun.

    It’s hard to remember much of the details of that time in life, but I know that BB gun opened up an entire new world for me. Rather than just watching TV or playing in the yard, I had a reason to explore, hunt and discover. I not only learned marksmanship and safety rules with that little rifle but also how to find game, stalk, use a blind and other skills needed to be an effective hunter.  

    This was also a time of great discovery. While most students don’t get to study biology and anatomy until high school, I had a four-acre classroom where I learned about many different species of reptiles, birds and small mammals. My love for the outdoors grew from that dry, alkali dirt.

    Since that time, I’ve acquired other firearms but no longer have that BB gun. I’m sure if I did, it would occupy a special place in my man cave just like Beth’s Red Ryder. She’s only seven, but any time we have guests and end up looking at trophies or guns, she retrieves her BB gun from the closet and shows it off like it’s her prize possession. She’s even put a purple piece of lace through the saddle ring so it’s easy to identify and uniquely hers.

    With Christmas coming up, there are lots of options to consider as gifts. A lot of gifts don’t last longer than a week or two. But there are a few things that really do last much longer. Whether it’s a BB gun, tent, sleeping bag, pocket knife or fishing pole, the real gift of the outdoors can last a lifetime.