My First Gun

I just wanted to tell a story that I didn’t want to get lost. It is about my first rifle. It is a Winchester model 94 lever action in 25-35 caliber that my grandfather George William Shanks gave to me when I was fifteen years old.

In its self it isn’t a very expensive or pretty gun but I guess that now in 2016 it is fairly valuable because it’s somewhat rare. That isn’t why it’s valuable to me.

It is valuable to me because of the way it was given to me and by who gave it to me. When my Grandfather  gave it to me I didn’t fully appreciate or understand the significance of the gift that he gave me.

You see my grandfather wasn’t overly or outwardly affectionate. In fact when I was small I was a little afraid of him. Later in my life that fear turned to deep respect as I watched the way that he lived his life. He was honest, paid his bills, and made me feel safe and secure in an otherwise unsettled life without the feeling of safety in it. When I lived with him and my grandmother I was always warm, always clean, had food to eat. I doubt that he ever made more than a dollar and a half an hour.

My grandfather wasn’t a “big” hunter. In fact I never ever saw him get a deer. But he would take me with him in his old pickup.

My day would start at about 5:00 in the morning. My grandmother would wake me up and I would go out to the little kitchen to have breakfast. On the table would be my grandfather’s 32 special Winchester model 94 with a box of ammo. Along side of it would be the 25-35 that my grandfather borrowed from a friend for me to use, and there would be a box of shells on the table for it too.

Our lunch would be there too, along with a quart thermos of coffee for my grand dad, and a smaller thermos of hot chocolate for me.

We would go out in his old pickup to hunt for deer. I would walk beside him while we hunted. I would walk too fast so he always had to tell me to walk slower so the deer couldn’t see us. One time I saw a buck ahead of us and my grandfather couldn’t make it out, so he told me to go ahead and shoot, so I shot and missed. He never did see that buck but he told me at the time, “wow you almost got him”. Another time a jackrabbit took off in front of us and Grandpa said “get him” so again I shot and missed, but my grandfather told me,  “good shot you almost got him”.

Most of our “hunting” was done from the old pickup. He would drive through the woods and we would talk.

 He would take me to Fort Rock and places that he spent time growing up, and lived as a young man. Where he met and married my Grandmother. He taught me how to live my life and how to treat other people.

He bought That gun from the friend that loaned it to him, so that I would have it to hunt with, but when his friend died, the family wanted it back because they didn’t know that my grandfather had bought it. So he gave it back. Later my grandfather bought it for a second time and gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday.

I could go on and on about him, but this is really about the love of a man to his grandson, and my love for him. He never attended church but I hope that he was led to the Lord before he died. I wasn’t with him when he passed but I know that he knew he was dying. And there was a paster that visited him.  One of my greatest hopes is to see him in Heaven. And I want all of my Grandsons to meet me in heaven too.

By the way, I went on to shoot my very first deer with that little 25-35, and several more before I retired it.

I am writing this at the ripe old age of 68 years old. October 6th 2016

Jim Kent