Grampa's 410 Poem by Juan Olivarez

It's a very old gun, a hundred years, maybe more.
It sits in a corner of my bedroom, with my other guns.
Back in 1938 it was my parents wedding present,
From my maternal grandfather.

My uncle Santos, my moms little brother,
Told the story of how grampa Pilar would load the gun,
With a 45 slug instead of a 410 shell, and shoot,
At the pursuing Mexicans across the Rio Grande.

I don't know if the story is true or not,
My uncle Santos could stretch the truth some.
However he always wanted his dad's gun,
So I choose to believe the story is true.

When I was twelve, I came into possession of the 410,
And I used it proficiently. Rabbits and doves,
Were my contribution to my family's table.
It was expected, not just of me, but of all boys.

I was lucky to have grown up in the early sixties,
Away from civilization in a totally rural area.
And grampa's Springfield Arms 410,
Is still mine after 48 years.

The stock is a bit broken now,
And it's once metallic blue is rust brown.
But you will never see me on T.V.
Walking into Rick Harrison's pawn shop with it.

5/7/14 Alton Texas