1 January 2024
Another thing that comes with age is the sudden entanglement of accessories. Failing eyesight means I wear glasses now, and carry another pair of readers in case I’m seized with the sudden desire to read a book. And of course, given that I’m a writer, I carry a pen, and feel naked whenever I’m caught without one. I’ve always carried a pocketknife and actually use it several times a day, from slicing open a package delivery, whittling off a round of summer sausage, or cutting open a bale of hay. I carry a leather wallet, which I understand is a habit now passing into history as people stuff their entire lives into their mobile phones. I won’t do that, but I understand the temptation.
If I’m leaving my house I carry a gun. I alternate between a Glock 19 and Smith and Wesson Shield in 9mm with an extended magazine full of hollow points. I shouldn’t have to explain why I carry gun because if you don’t understand I’d suggest you aren’t paying attention. I can’t help you there because that work must be your own. I would carry a gun even if it were illegal because I have both a right and a sacred duty to defend myself and my family. I won’t compromise on the issue and I’ve noted—with more frequency lately—that some things are worth being declared an outlaw.
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