Inconceivable Evil

There comes a time in a boys life when he makes the transition into manhood.  Every boy does this in a different way.  Sometimes it’s one thing; sometimes it’s numerous things.  For some it happens quickly and for some it happens over time.  For me, it was during hunting season in 1974.

It was an exciting day for me.  My father and I were purchasing my first hunting rifle.  This was the first year I got to go hunting with my dad.

My dad is Mark Woods.  Born in Lubbock, Texas on June 26, 1940.  He joined the Army right out of high school and learned to be a mechanic.  He served two years and was honorably discharged in 1960.  I remember him always telling me that he was very lucky to have left right before the war started in Vietnam.  As soon as his tour was over he moved to New Mexico and rented a farm in Sunshine Valley, about 10 miles north of Questa, the small town where I was born.  Everyone knew everyone and everyone was like family.  We farmed about fifty acres of land, mostly potatoes and corn.  We also raised rabbits in our cellar and on occasion some pigs.  Dad also worked as a mechanic, the best in the county, so we always had four or five cars in the yard that dad was working on.

My mom, Ruth, worked part time at the post office in town. She was born in Bottineau, North Dakota on August 17, 1943.  When she was sixteen, she moved in with her aunt May in Many Farms, Arizona.  She never explained why she moved and I never really asked her.  Many Farms was about 20 miles north of Chinle.  Aunt May took her in and Mom finished high school there. After High school, she moved to Taos, New Mexico and got a job at a small Southwestern jewelry store as a salesperson.  She met her best friend Annette Baca there.  Annette always stopped in when she went to Taos and always bought something.  They became close friends and Annette eventually talked my mom into moving to Questa where Annette was from and share rent on a small house. This is where Mom lived when she met Dad.  She made friends easily and before long was involved in a few women’s groups.  They were always having get-togethers for something or another.  I think it was mostly to gossip and drink tea.  I never understood why they did it, but I always wanted to listen to them talk.  She always told me to go play, or do my homework or something so I would stay out of their way.  I still don’t know why I would listen in because it was very boring.

I had taken a hunter safety and gun safety class at my school earlier that month.  As I held the rifle to my shoulder, it was the perfect size and weight.

“How does that one feel Kenny?” my dad asked.

“Good!” I said in an excited voice holding the rifle to my shoulder.

“Ok, we’ll take it then” Dad told the clerk.

Behind the counter stood Mr. Carter.  He always wore the same clothes, brown slacks and a white shirt.  He owned the local sporting goods store since before I was born.  He was old and didn’t have much hair and was very nice.