Ever since I was a little boy, I can remember spending many days with my grandpa. His name was Ray. It was actually Walter Ray, but he simply went by Ray. I would spend summers with him at the beach fishing, digging clams and an occasional trip shooting. I can still remember the smell of his den. It always had the aroma of Hoppe’s #9, the gun-cleaning solvent. He had a desk set up to reload, and his rifles were stacked in a gun cabinet. It was in this room I learned many things. I learned to assemble cartridges, how...