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Bernard de Silva
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« on: April 23, 2007, 07:57:07 PM » |
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"JUST AN OLD LEVER NINETY-TWO".
I opened the gun case, a chest of memories, lost to thoughts, the way we old hunters do. There among the Brownings and fancy stuff, it caught my fancy, a well worn ninety-two. Picked it from the cabinet, worked the lever left it open as I clasped the weathered stock, Checked breach and action, closed it firmly, eased down the hammer…set it at half cock.
Then memories of a lifetime filled my mind, told in sequence, as if the old gun spoke to me. And a vision of its first owner, my late father, graced them, so his face and being I could see. Seemed to tell he bought it back in the thirties, early thirties, he recalled, hard time thirties too. That vision sort of grinned, like he used to do, said it was pricey then…bought it brand new.
Then we lived again the old times by the yarns, of things and hunts a father and boy had shared. The old Winchester I held fast, lost to memories, cradled it gently, as all grand years we compared, Ways hunting and of manhood, his firm guidance, a father’s doctrine that in life has served me well. That old rifle always a reminder to far finer years, in a world perhaps more just…if truth it is to tell.
My old eyes scan printing, see calibre and type, .25-20, Winchester Arms Company, Model 1892, I wonder, will it brighten my boy with my memory. some future day, when my life and time is through. But I'll wipe and oil the weapon, drop the hammer, place it away gently, the way all we old hunters do. Bid farewell to visions and memories, 'til next time. lock them safe away with that treasured ninety-two.
©.Copyright: Bernard de Silva..
[Sort of like a powder powered slingshot these days, and I have some fine high powered rifles, and expensive shotguns, but that old rifle always holds pride of place.]
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