Looking at those stitches, I can imagine my Grandpa sitting in the kitchen, in front of the wood burning stove—the only furnace for the house—of his little home in Oak Creek, Colorado. As a child I spent one or two weeks every summer there—that was back in the 70’s and early 80’s. I even remember when my grandpa gave this gun to my dad. I was 17 or 18 years old, and they were talking really loud. Not shouting at each other, but hollering because my grandpa’s hearing was really poor due to all those years running chain saws. The next thing I know, my grandpa goes into his bedroom and brings out a small gun case and almost grudgingly hands it to my Dad. There was silence, and that was the end of the conversation. When they would talk to each other a lot of time it was easier for my dad to speak Spanish to him. He seemed to understand it a little better, but it was harder for me to figure out. What I got from the conversation was that my grandpa would often give things away to other family members and give my dad had nothing. This wasn’t necessarily intentional; rather, it was a matter of logistics. Most of my Grandpa’s kids lived in Colorado so they saw him more frequently than my dad (we lived in Minnesota). But this time he received Grandpa's gun.