Rookie_Rover
06-03-2005, 06:33 AM
Grampaws 10 gauge.
I must have been 6 or 7 when I first discovered the old 10 gauge grampaw had, I remember just standing there looking up at it as it hung over the door, and wondering how grampaw used it. I know he’d tote it out in the yard, pull some part of it back, put one end to his shoulder and then it would thunder outside like it was gonna storm. It must have been a powerful thunder ‘cause grampaw would almost stagger back from it, and he was a big feller.
About three years later I gathered the nerve to ask about it, all I had been told was that it was dangerous and it could hurt me bad. I would have climbed up and got it myself, but I was taught not to do anything that made granny mad, and climbin’ on her chairs would do it, I already knew that.
I asked granny what it was, and she laughed like somebody had told a joke, “Go ask your grampaw” she said, with all of her southern 4th grade schooling, and North Carolina drawl.
Grampaw was more than willin’ to tell me about the thing, and he put one hand about a foot from one end, and the other hand about a foot from the other end and dang near broke that thing in two!!! It bent up into a weird angle and I figured I had asked him to tinker with it when he knowed it was broke. He must have seen the look one my face and figured I was confused, so he told me it was supposed to bend like that, he called it “Breakin’ ‘er down” , and as soon as I heard that I felt better, I didn’t understand, but I felt better.
He reached over to this little brown box by the door and grabbed a handful of little things that was pretty red. Grampaw always had some kind of goodies in his bib overalls so I figured it was some kind of candy. He slid it into the little hole that the break in the thing made; he straightened out the thing and walked outside, with me right behind him.
He told me that this was called a 10 gauge, and I wondered what that meant, but I knowed better than to ask; meddlin’ kids got wailed on for askin’ too many questions. He showed me just how to hold it, and he told me to watch him, he pointed this thing at an old milkin’ bucket that had a hole in it. He pulled that thing that looked like a dog ear back and put the wooden end to his shoulder, as I watched that thing bucked up, and at that same time it thundered again.
Grampaw was half Indian, but I didn’t see on none of them western movies that Indians made just thunder and no rain, I always heard they was strictly in the makin’ rain bidness.
I looked back at the bucket and it was plumb full of holes!!!! He bent that thing down and it flung that red candy wrapper over his shoulder and at my feet. I bent down, picket it up and seen that there weren’t no candy in it.
That dang thing throwed my candy at that dang bucket, just throwed it all away, for what? To make a bunch of holes in the bucket? To make thunder? I didn’t think much of that funny lookin’ stick, till grampaw whipped out his old Case Double-X pocket knife and cut one of the new wrappers open. I liked the idea of him openin’ that thing so I could have the candy, instead of chunkin’ it all over the yard.
Inside that thing was just a little ugly looking thing, some black dust, and some little grey lookin’ balls, ‘bout the size of okra seeds. Ain’t no candy in there, just that junk, boy them folks that make them red things sure do like to mess with my head. I was thinking to myself about how mean it was of them to dress up that mess of junk like candy and then not ‘pologize for confusin’ me.
‘Bout that time grampaw handed me the stick, with the funny looking wood handle on it and put the little pile of black looking dust on the ground, he pulled out a match and it blazed!! Just fired up and made a big red fire. I had eat some of those cinnymin red hots, but they couldn’t do that. He explained a bunch of stuff, ‘bout gunpowder and all that, but I was too confused to figure any more out.
He put one of those red things in and straightened that stick out and handed it back to me. “Put the stock agin yore shoulder and pull the hammer back, then grip ‘er real hard, and squeeze the trigger” he said as he held the middle piece of wood up. If he hadn’t held that middle part, the far end out there would have hit the dirt sure ‘nuff. I tell you, for to be no more than a weird looking stick that thing was heavy.
He told me again, but this time pointed at everything, and that helped me through it. He told me he would keep a good hold of it until I got used to shootin’ it, I was just glad what I was fixin’ to do had a name as fancy as “shootin’ ”.
I got it ready, and pulled back on the “trigger” and when she got about halfway back I heard thunder, and even though that old mean mule was in the barn, I felt her run up and kid me hard in the shoulder and chest. I flung backwards and landed in the dirt, I sat up and grampaw was laughin’ at me!
I rubbed tears, sweat, and dirt out of my eyes so I could see, and I couldn’t believe grampaw was laughin’ at me. I wanted him to whoop that thing for hurtin’ my shoulder, which had already turned a bright red. I asked what he thought was so funny, and he just chuckled harder. I never have figured out what was so funny.
I tell you, I miss them good ol’ days.
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This story is part fact, part fiction, and I hope that you have enjoyed it.
I must have been 6 or 7 when I first discovered the old 10 gauge grampaw had, I remember just standing there looking up at it as it hung over the door, and wondering how grampaw used it. I know he’d tote it out in the yard, pull some part of it back, put one end to his shoulder and then it would thunder outside like it was gonna storm. It must have been a powerful thunder ‘cause grampaw would almost stagger back from it, and he was a big feller.
About three years later I gathered the nerve to ask about it, all I had been told was that it was dangerous and it could hurt me bad. I would have climbed up and got it myself, but I was taught not to do anything that made granny mad, and climbin’ on her chairs would do it, I already knew that.
I asked granny what it was, and she laughed like somebody had told a joke, “Go ask your grampaw” she said, with all of her southern 4th grade schooling, and North Carolina drawl.
Grampaw was more than willin’ to tell me about the thing, and he put one hand about a foot from one end, and the other hand about a foot from the other end and dang near broke that thing in two!!! It bent up into a weird angle and I figured I had asked him to tinker with it when he knowed it was broke. He must have seen the look one my face and figured I was confused, so he told me it was supposed to bend like that, he called it “Breakin’ ‘er down” , and as soon as I heard that I felt better, I didn’t understand, but I felt better.
He reached over to this little brown box by the door and grabbed a handful of little things that was pretty red. Grampaw always had some kind of goodies in his bib overalls so I figured it was some kind of candy. He slid it into the little hole that the break in the thing made; he straightened out the thing and walked outside, with me right behind him.
He told me that this was called a 10 gauge, and I wondered what that meant, but I knowed better than to ask; meddlin’ kids got wailed on for askin’ too many questions. He showed me just how to hold it, and he told me to watch him, he pointed this thing at an old milkin’ bucket that had a hole in it. He pulled that thing that looked like a dog ear back and put the wooden end to his shoulder, as I watched that thing bucked up, and at that same time it thundered again.
Grampaw was half Indian, but I didn’t see on none of them western movies that Indians made just thunder and no rain, I always heard they was strictly in the makin’ rain bidness.
I looked back at the bucket and it was plumb full of holes!!!! He bent that thing down and it flung that red candy wrapper over his shoulder and at my feet. I bent down, picket it up and seen that there weren’t no candy in it.
That dang thing throwed my candy at that dang bucket, just throwed it all away, for what? To make a bunch of holes in the bucket? To make thunder? I didn’t think much of that funny lookin’ stick, till grampaw whipped out his old Case Double-X pocket knife and cut one of the new wrappers open. I liked the idea of him openin’ that thing so I could have the candy, instead of chunkin’ it all over the yard.
Inside that thing was just a little ugly looking thing, some black dust, and some little grey lookin’ balls, ‘bout the size of okra seeds. Ain’t no candy in there, just that junk, boy them folks that make them red things sure do like to mess with my head. I was thinking to myself about how mean it was of them to dress up that mess of junk like candy and then not ‘pologize for confusin’ me.
‘Bout that time grampaw handed me the stick, with the funny looking wood handle on it and put the little pile of black looking dust on the ground, he pulled out a match and it blazed!! Just fired up and made a big red fire. I had eat some of those cinnymin red hots, but they couldn’t do that. He explained a bunch of stuff, ‘bout gunpowder and all that, but I was too confused to figure any more out.
He put one of those red things in and straightened that stick out and handed it back to me. “Put the stock agin yore shoulder and pull the hammer back, then grip ‘er real hard, and squeeze the trigger” he said as he held the middle piece of wood up. If he hadn’t held that middle part, the far end out there would have hit the dirt sure ‘nuff. I tell you, for to be no more than a weird looking stick that thing was heavy.
He told me again, but this time pointed at everything, and that helped me through it. He told me he would keep a good hold of it until I got used to shootin’ it, I was just glad what I was fixin’ to do had a name as fancy as “shootin’ ”.
I got it ready, and pulled back on the “trigger” and when she got about halfway back I heard thunder, and even though that old mean mule was in the barn, I felt her run up and kid me hard in the shoulder and chest. I flung backwards and landed in the dirt, I sat up and grampaw was laughin’ at me!
I rubbed tears, sweat, and dirt out of my eyes so I could see, and I couldn’t believe grampaw was laughin’ at me. I wanted him to whoop that thing for hurtin’ my shoulder, which had already turned a bright red. I asked what he thought was so funny, and he just chuckled harder. I never have figured out what was so funny.
I tell you, I miss them good ol’ days.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This story is part fact, part fiction, and I hope that you have enjoyed it.