Gun Control – is a hot topic these days in America. What I wrote here is a slice of life in America in 1968 – and not meant to offend anyone -but, if it does I don’t really care.
The Night Dad Taught Me About Gun Control
I was born, raised and lived in God’s country that is called Denver, Colorado,
In the west were the mighty Rocky Mountains – and we lived in the mountain shadows.
Way back before all the school shootings and those that want to ban guns,
Parents had always handed down an American tradition to their daughters and sons.
We were taught America was strong, for we had the right to bear arms,
That no one including our own government could take our liberty and our firearms.
Christmas one year at the age of eight – I learned first-hand about gun hate,
That night my Dad taught me about gun control confiscation there is no debate.
Now in this tale I will tell of an incident in the year ninety sixty-eight,
It was Christmas night after the festivities and the family had stayed up late.
That morning along with a basketball, new socks and jockey short underwear,
I held off opening the big box that had my name under the Christmas lights glare.
Grabbing the last gift under the tree – wrapped with frosty the snowman -so much fun,
The gift had a tag that was written in ink, “From Santa and Dad to my youngest son.
Hoping and praying that this was the one gift that I really had wanted and asked for,
I had seen it in a commercial on the television and was approved by the US Marine Crops.
Tearing apart the wrapper and frosty I tossed the paper clean out of sight,
Looking at the photo that was on the big box – exactly what I wanted to my delight.
The box contained a toy heavy machine gun to play army in the neighborhood,
Kids today would never understand that playing army was part of our childhood.
Now this toy heavy machine gun took four size D batteries and had flashing red lights,
And a very loud “RAT-IT-TAT-TAT” as I pulled the trigger looking down the barrel sights.
By noon on that Christmas day my Dad was doubting his gift to his youngest son,
With each “RAT-IT-TAT-TAT” even my Mom was getting perturbed that I had gotten that gun.
Later we started the trip to grandpa and grandma’s house in Kansas the neighboring state,
We packed our station wagon for our trip – my new heavy machine gun was part of the freight.
Later in the dark of the night the family was sound asleep as Dad concentrated on the road,
Dad, late that night hit a pothole on the highway and the toy machine gun went into firing mode.
As the “RAT-IT-TAT-TAT” and flashing red lights woke up our startled sleeping family,
Dad swerved this way and that way as we all learned some new words and profanity.
I have to give my Dad credit for he finally gained control of that old station wagon,
As the gun continued “RAT-IT-TAT-TAT” and red flashing like some mystical dragon.
After stopping my Dad laid his head on the steering wheel and said, “SON OF A BITCH!”
Still swearing and cussing my Dad threw my Christmas heavy machine gun into some farmers ditch.
Kurt James © 2018
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