Thinking about my dad and his shotgun, brought back a memory from LONG, LONG, ago. WARNING! Long and probably boring.
My mother had a chest of drawers in the living room that held all kinds of junk, but the top drawer was full of old black and white photo's. No order, just tossed in the drawer. I used to go through them just for something to do. Most were just pictures of people, the kids, the house, but one always caught my eye. It was of my father, a much younger man, leaning against an old car. Buy old I mean it had running boards, but what kind of car I have no idea. He's wearing a suit, but the jacket to tossed across the hood of the car. He has one foot up on the running board, and he has a revolver in each hand. I would swear they were Smith and Wesson 38's, but I doubt I'd have known that back then.
I remember asking my mother about the picture and what happened to those guns. She looked at me, and if looks could kill, I wouldn't be here today. "They're toys, and that's all you need to know."
Ok...I know when to drop a subject. I never thought about it again, until at the funeral home for my fathers funeral, the minister is asking for any little personal stories about my father that he could work into the service. My mother told about seeing him for the first time at the little store up the road, then going home and mentioning him to her mother. She said her mother sternly told her..."You stay away from that man. He's a Bootlegger." I laughed at the story, and again didn't think more of it, until some time later I told my now wife about it. She asked the question. "Well? Was he?" Was he what I asked, actually confused...was he what? "A BOOTLEGGER, you idiot!"
Heck, a lot of people ran and made shine back then. Nothing unusual about it really. I never thought about it. It was just a story. Not that I know of anyway. But then I got to thinking about it. I do remember he and my uncles talking about fast cars and racing the cops, then looking at me and saying "You don't hear any of this boy. You got it?" Yes sir. I got it.
Also, my mother was deathly opposed to handguns. Not guns, she came from a family of hunters. But she said only two type of people had handguns, cops and crooks, and I wasn't either. She had a hissy fit when I got my first handgun, even though I hadn't lived at home for years.
I still don't know the "rest of the story" but I sure wish I could find that picture again, and I'd really like to know about those two pistols. Now, I'll bet they could tell a story. I do not believe they were toys.
