We called him Uncle Tom, he was my Grandmothers brother, my sister and I thought he was pretty old. All I remember about him is that he was a jolly kind of Grandfather to us, as we never met our real Grandfather, so as Grandmothers brother, he filled the spot very well. Tom was a stocky man, he always wore suspenders, he liked to laugh and he was always glad to see us. He would grab us and pick us up to give us a kiss, we tried to get away from his stubble beard that never seemed to get longer or shaved off! And he smelled like he had been drinking, but I never saw him drunk, (well after all, he was an Irishman.) Dad would try to drive over and visit Tom about once a week or so, just to check up on him since he lived alone. The visit was usually on a week night after we had dinner. My Dad would say" do you want to take a ride and visit Tom?" and Joanie and I would always say yes.

I looked forward to the visit because Tom had this real .22 cal rifle that he promised would be mine when I turned thirteen. He would bring it out of his room ,and always check to see if it was empty, then I got to handle it, and pretend to shoot at the picture or the mantle clock. Tom gave me advice on aiming, I couldn't wait to get that gun, I only had five years to go. I think I was crazy about guns at the time, not knowing what they could really do.

One Saturday morning Dad said let's give Tom a visit, we hadn't seen him for two weeks.

So we drove over and knocked at the door, Tom was surprised to see us because usually it was a week night kind of thing. "Come in, come in! he said, I was just fixing my breakfast.

Well we hadn't got to the kitchen yet before I asked Tom to get the gun. Dad said "let Tom finish his breakfast first." I went out to the front porch grumbling. Joanie was out there, and there was some other girl from the neighborhood that I had never seen before. The girl talk soon got boring and I went back to see if Tom was ready, he wasn't, and now he and Dad were having a cup of coffee. Don't they know how long I've been waiting? "Are you ready yet ?" They were in a serious conversation and just waved me off. I walked back out towards the porch, I passed Toms bedroom (that's where he keeps it) I thought to myself.

Joanie and her friend were on the porch and, for a few minutes I listened to their chatter and looked around to see if I could find a boy my age to make friends with so I wouldn't be bored. But there was no one. I went stomping back into the kitchen and using my most demanding voice, asked again. They hushed me up with a wave of a hand and continued on in their intense conversation. I turned on my heel in disgust, and went out towards the front again. The open door of the bedroom made me pause and look inside for just a second.

"I wonder where Tom keeps that rifle?" Outside again I didn't even hear what the girls were talking about, my brain was thinking, "I would keep a rifle under the bed." Or "maybe in the closet." Slowly I walked to the kitchen, searching that room with my eyes as I passed.

I stood in the doorway silently now, the temptation heavy on my mind. There seemed to be no end to their talking ! You know what I'm going to do next, don't you. Well here I am, the girls talking on the porch, the men talking in the kitchen, it seems I'm in the middle and left out. The closet door has a squeaky hinge and I clench my teeth, it seems so loud! No gun! look under the bed, No gun ! I come back to the doorway and listen, everything is the same. Now I am eye-balling the dresser, "could the rifle fit in there?"... .. . Third drawer down, It wasn't the rifle, it was better! A large revolver in it's holster, with a cartridge belt wrapped around it !........ . Now I knew better than to even touch it........ . But I did, I carefully slid it out, (wow it was heavy!) I had never held a real revolver before, and I thrilled with the feel of it !

Now I hoped that the conversation in the kitchen would not stop. I wanted to be alone with this impressive thing. I was smart enough to see that it was loaded and dumb enough to consider finding a place to shoot it. . . . . . ..I just wanted to know what it was like to fire a gun. ( I had never heard a gun fire in my life.) I thought it's probably louder than in the movies. Of course I knew it was wrong, but I thought I could come up with a plan and get it back in the drawer before it was missed. I carefully put the barrel of the gun in my belt, right in front, then I zipped up my jacket and looked in the dresser mirror, it looked fine to me. Underneath the back steps was my first thought, but Dad and Tom were too close and I'm sure they would hear. So I turned and walked to the porch, Joanie and her friend were there as I tried to find a safe place to fire a gun.

I realized there wasn't a good place, but I was content with the feel of the heavy gun in my waist. Meanwhile, Joanie's friend now had a bag of cookies, and the two of them were enjoying them noisily. "Can I have some of the cookies please?" "there not mine." Joanie said, So I asked the girl the same question. She said NO! . . . "But that's not fair, to eat cookies in front of me and not share them." She shrugged her shoulders and started to talk to my sister again. "You better let me have some cookies because I have a gun in my jacket." ( what a stupid bluff) The girl looked me up and down and said, "No you don't." "Yes I do!" I said and I un-zipped the jacket halfway down so the handle was showing. She gave it a glance, and said "that's not a real gun, it's a cap pistol." "It's a real gun and it's loaded!" I said, and I started to take it out of the jacket to show her, but I saw a man walking by and he was looking in our direction. I zipped up the jacket and glared at the girl. The man had stopped and said hello to us, then he asked if Tom was home. Yes, he's eating breakfast I said. The neighbor came up the stairs and I thought he would go in and join my Dad and Tom for coffee. But he stopped when he got to us and asked me, "Is that a cap pistol you have in your jacket?" Yes I said...... .."can I see it?"... ..No I said..... .."Oh come on, I like cap pistols."... .I unzipped the jacket partway and let the handle peek out a little bit. . . ".Ah, that's a beauty," he said, "can I hold it?"... .No I said, and started to zip up again when he reached down and lifted the gun out of my jacket. "It is a real gun, does Tom know you have this?" Yes, I lied. He looked at the gun again, and......." My God, it's loaded!"... . And into the house he went to find Tom, I stayed on the porch awaiting my fate. Oh boy, I was in big trouble, my Dad came flying out asking, "where did you get that gun?". . .." Did you know it was loaded? . . "What were you going to do with it?" And he was a little mad at Tom for leaving a loaded gun where I could find it. Well I sure was in the dog-house for a long time, and Tom never brought out the little rifle for me to practice with again. Tom died before I was thirteen, so the rifle that he had promised to me went somewhere else, I never saw it again. And in my sisters memory of that day, she thinks I threatened her with it. That is not so, it was just a bluff to get a few cookies, a stupid bluff. I got over it, looking at guns as if they had some kind of glamour to them. But I still admire the design and craftsmanship of some of them. I don't care at all about shooting.

Many years have gone by for me now, but I will never forget the day of that gun. While visiting my uncle, he said he had something to give to me. I nearly fell off the dining room chair when he handed me the .38 cal Colt police special. . . . .. I recognized it instantly. . . So now I finally am the caretaker of the gun I wanted so much, the gun that got me in trouble. I'm sure that I was lucky that I didn't fire it under the back stairs, I have no desire to fire it now.

So it rests safely in my dresser now, under lock and key. . . . " . Third drawer down.