Wednesday, July 02, 2008

I'm Bitter

Barack H. (he who shall not be named) Obama says I'm bitter and clinging to my guns and religion. Well, damn straight, Skippy. I'm not as bitter after the Heller decision, and I'm easing back into my faith. I'm also clinging to these guns, too. They are family heirlooms, and I'll be damned if I'll give them up to some moron gun banner.

The long guns are all from Dad's side. The top gun is a Winchester Model 12 twelve gauge that my grandfather bought used and Dad used as well. It had been reblued several times, and my buddy wanted to restore it. So, it got the baked on finish and a bit of stock cleanup. Shoots great and it's ready for another couple generations.

The next gun is a Remington Targetmaster .22(forgot the model number). It is an old single shot. I grew up plinking with this gun after BB guns became passe. A couple years ago I dug lead out of that old barrel for hours, and it is a shooter. Grandpa bought it and Dad and my uncle shot a lot of cottontails for supper with that old gun.

Next up is a Winchester tube fed semi auto .22. This was Dad's rifle. I was not allowed to shoot it. It sported an old Weaver four power scope. I took it out and it wouldn't hit squat. I then discovered the rifle had been dropped on the scope and bent it down in front of the rings. I found another Weaver scope at a gunshow and plan to mount it on there so it will be just like Dad had it.

The next rifle is a Savage breakdown pump with a seven round removable magazine. It really needs a good cleaning. Dad was even worse about cleaning guns than me.

The pistola on the left is from my Mother's side of the family. My grandmother and two of her sisters all lived together for some years, and as a kid I discovered these old gems. None of the sisters knew where the Remington derringer came from - or so they say. They were all proper Catholic women who lived just around the corner from the cathedral in OKC, so a hideout gun was probably embarrassing to them. The hinge is broken, so the value is mostly sentimental. It fired the .41 rimfire. The revolver, on the other hand, was something my grandmother carried when she rode checking cattle and other errands. This all happened a bit after the turn of the century, and the wild wild west wasn't completely tamed. It is an old "Owl Head" .32 caliber blackpowder Iver and Johnson. It's not worth much, either, but it is a family heirloom.

The guns were the tools of my forbearer's, just like the big deep cast iron skillet I got from my grandmother. My sister has some furniture, and one of the cool things she has is a bunch of quilts I rescued from my Dad's closet. My great grandmother made them. Some day I'll take a pic or three.

So, yeah, I'm clinging to my guns and religion. It was the way I was raised - I'm a sucker for tradition. Come and take them, I say. I've got newer stuff as well.

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