Tuesday, July 09, 2013

5:30 Thursday morning found me rattling around Grace's beach rental kitchen making coffee. My phone chimed, a text from Kenny, "Itch u up," Itch being his childhood nickname for me. "Mak'g java," was my reply, followed by "walk" from him. I replied affirmatively and 10 minutes later a thermos and pair of cups in my hands,  I walked out the door to see him standing in the street.

We walked toward the beach and past the guest house where most of our crew was staying. The morning was cloudy and the air was close as if rain could come at any time. We talked, he wanted an update on Mandy, his wild child. I gave him a review and he smiled. "Do you know she wants to go to college in Paris," he asked? I nodded, "there is no way not to know." Do you think she means Paris, TX or Paris, ME? He shook his head and we laughed.

We talked about other things and finally he came around to how he is feeling, better, but lethargic. He told me that he was rejecting all the consulting and advisory work that he had undertaken to focus on his family and teaching. He admitted that the budget has taken a hit, but it is worth it. Then he told me something that surprised and gladdened me, he had sold his guns.

We grew up in a small town and Kenny began to hunt with his friends' families and enjoyed target shooting. Of course being a conservative in America it is almost de rigueur to own several guns and have a permit to carry. Ken is careful about safety and kept the guns, clips and ammunition locked in separate containers, but even Catherine a Southern belle wondered if K's armory was a bit of overkill. With the onset of his depression, Catherine worried about the guns more, but was hesitant to make an issue of it. Fortunately one of Ken's best friends is a psychiatrist and a gun enthusiast, he gave K information on the correlation between the availability of guns and successful suicides. Kenny told me that those reports had crossed is mind before his friend's intervention, but the suggestion was enough for him to ask his friend for help in disposing of the weapons.



Anonymous Robert Taylor said...

That is good news. My father came back from WWII in 1945 and got rid of his guns. He would never again allow a firearm in his house. He was an officer in the Royal Canadian Artillery and saw what a dirty business guns were. He celebrated his 94th birthday today.

5:24 AM  
Blogger jo said...

That is great news. And I assure you since Paris, ME is a few towns over from the summer house that she could not possibly want to go to college there....lol. Jealous of all that lies ahead of her.

1:22 AM  
Anonymous VJ said...

Wise moves all around. Cheers, 'VJ'

7:37 AM  

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