The year, 1974, and this bad boy was unwrapped that Christmas. Not sure how Santa had the money, or how I made the good list, but it was mine. If you ask my cousin, she’d say it was because I was spoiled. I’ll go with the thought that my parents did all they could to give us all they could, even when they couldn’t. Looking back I feel guilty, but I was appreciative and thankful and I can still see the excitement in my dad’s eyes. It did come with one condition, I had to take it to my grandfather’s and leave it there, as we lived in the city and he lived in a farm. Come to think about it, it was a good idea, I got in enough “travesura” (mischievous trouble my spelling and slang?) as it was. Every trip, I’d go to my uncles closet and pull it out and go take on the world. I’d listen to stories of the ventures it had without me, as my cousins had found it and would use it. One visit I came and noticed some wear and tear and it had lost a screw on the stock. I was upset and mad, but my Uncle Henry took it and found a screw and nut, as seen in the picture here and fixed it. To this day, it’s still there. The gun has lost most its “umph”, but the emotional connection to my childhood at the farm and my parents is as strong as the first pump and shoot. At times I was as fast as the Rifle Man, just not as accurate. Not sure how long I’ll keep it, but I know for now, it’s serves as a tangible memory that connects me to my parents as they are gone, my grandparents and the farm, and now my uncle that put it back together. West Texas cotton fields, John Deere tractors, Chevy trucks and Christmas hog slaughters. Smiling eyes, laughter, a clay water jug with cool water on the table. A spoiled kid with a world in front of him given out of love. A pump and a shot, a screw and a nut, nothing is ever broken, it just needs a little love. “Thoop!” #somewheretexas #aboyslife #daisybbgun #bbgun #life #uncles #texas