When you pick up an old heirloom gun… it connects you to your Father, or your Grand Father, or his Father… you feel what they felt, you remember them and think about their lives and times that they had with that gun. The scratches on the stock, the mark on the bluing… and you remember their stories about hunting that deer or bear. If you are lucky, you remember them taking you out when your were a kid and teaching you how to shoot it.
I remember when my father took me shooting. Each time. What I don’t remember is when he took me to Disney Land or Six Flags… I know I went, but I don’t remember anything of it… but I remember him taking me shooting.
I don’t think you can get that time machine effect from a Rolling Pin… remembering making a batch of biscuits.