I had explained patiently that the 230-grain full metal jacket bullet would easily punch through the sheetrock walls, endangering his neighbors. And, because he kept it in the bedside drawer, any number of nurses, therapists, medical supply delivery people and cleaning staff could have access to it.
Finally, I sat dad down, unloaded the pistol and handed it back to him. “OK, Dad,” I said. “Cycle the slide like you
were loading it.”
He tugged and tugged but his arthritic hands could not get the slide all the way back. With a wry smile, and a bit of a tear, he handed the pistol back and said, “I guess it’s time for it to live with you.”
He knew that he could no longer maintain the pistol properly or store it safely, so it was time for the gun to be removed and relocated to a new home. Now that dad is gone, I think of him frequently when I take his 1911 to the range. And, yes,
it’s locked up the rest of the time.
– Dr. Gatling.