I hunt. I fish. I explore new horizons by way of wings, a good set of Goodyears, and boots that desperately need new soles on them. But at the end of those roads, I lack one increasingly important piece to the puzzle, particularly as I age: a place to store those stories.
What I’ve seen through my eyes often I can’t find the words to describe or the photos to help preserve it perfectly for others to see, but perhaps a setting in my home or at the ranch where I can sit and stare would help stoke the memory of the stories I wish to pass on through the years. Herein lies the purpose of the gun room. The private enclave where the tools of the trade, both gun and mind, keep the stories of the past and are finely tuned for whatever lies ahead.
Having a gun room, just any old gun room, is special. Nostalgic. Sentimental. But build it with purpose in mind and unmatched craftsmanship and it becomes more like a museum. The mounts on the wall, the photos, the nick in the stock of the rifle that bumped a rock in celebration—they all need their special place. For me, I could dream of nothing better than a heavy pour of bourbon, a pair of good chairs, and a custom gun room built by Julian & Sons. Built on tradition, but now in my own home building new traditions with family close by.
The stories of the excursions interlaced with stories of the build: why a certain wood was selected, why this gun or this holster was displayed in such a way. All of these details are part of the process of building with Julian & Sons. And no, I didn’t misplace the word “with” in that sentence, because the process is consultative and for a dream work like this, you don’t simply tell someone what you want. You let the experts help guide you and transform your vision into reality and allow them to surpass your lofty expectations.
I’ve lived my life to be present in the moment, and then to be able to tell those stories to those I love and hold dear. The perfect gun room is the perfect backdrop. The perfect place to remember old adventures and the stories they inspired—both the ones that happened exactly as told and the ones polished by time and retelling. It's a place to recount every speck of dust and every mile traveled, and to honor those who helped create those memories, especially the ones who have gone before us.
This room has photos of first hunts, of me and my dad in the Dakota milo and of my dog and I both admiring a greenhead in the swamp. It has the first rifle on one side, followed by the many others I thought I needed along the way. Guns of the Old West, with holsters to match, that tell of a time I wish I was around for 150 years ago. All of them tell stories—some are mine, some are others’, but all will be shared in the special place I dream of.
