Good Old Fashioned Respect

Winter. Ago.

We met behind the iconic Rainier National Park entrance sign. Immediately, Dad grabbed my new hat and threw it in the snow, stomped on it, ground it in, then jumped up and down on it. He kicked it aside.

Ashen snow feathered us. His glory steamed.

He wore a hip holster holding a wild-westerly .22 revolver, but kept it in check. Normally, he would have shot it up, being both a new hat, and my new hat, but… not here.

Then, even gun-nuts respected National Parks, respected rules, yet kept time-honored traditions alive, by adapting mindfully.