Let me tell you 4 stories, one of which I am embarrassed about, two that might have saved my life, and one about someone else.
When I was sixteen I had a 22 Ruger target pistol that I was going to use to kill a rat in the basement. I loaded the gun with a couple of shot rounds (these are sometimes called snake rounds), as I didn't want a solid slug bouncing off the floor or a wall. (I would come to bless my foresight, as you will see.) As I knew it wouldn't come out if I was moving around, I was sitting in a chair reading.
Finally I saw it scuttling out from under the stairs towards the open can of cat food I had left out as bait. I slowly stood up and started to draw the Ruger from the holster at my waist (I still had one back then) As I drew the gun my finger found the trigger and I tugged the gun free of the slight resistance of the holster. BANG! One shot foot! One trip to the hospital where some of the shot was removed and more was left in to work its was out over the next few years. Got rid of the Ruger after a gunsmith told me the previous owner had reduced the trigger pull to the minimum. Never put my finger into the trigger guard again if the gun wasn't pointed down range!
Next story: I worked straight midnights for many years, so when I wanted to take out my girlfriend or in this case, catch up with my sister, I would go the the last movie on a Friday night, which would let out at about 11:30 PM. There was a multiplex at the local mall, but at that time of night the mall parking lot was completely empty except for one white van parked near the road. The theaters were off by themselves across the road from the mall and I had parked off to the side of the theater so we could park near each other, and if anyone was looking out from the shows they would not be able to see us as we walked to our cars. As we were about halfway there I noticed three young men walking towards us from the direction of the van. I can't say why but the way they looked at us and their manner prompted me to sweep back my coat and put my hand on the handle of my gun. They didn't even look at each other, just made a turn like a well practiced drill team and headed for the theater. Three days later, I read a newspaper article about a woman mall employee who had been beaten, robbed, and raped by three men driving a white van the night before.
Another story: I was at a small branch bank to cash a check. The parking lot was wrapped around the bank, and was one way so you had to drive all the way around the bank to get out of the parking lot. As I was leaving, a guy backed out of his spot in front of me without looking so I had to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting him. He pulled back in and I went on by. A minute later he speeds by me, gets ahead of me, slams to a halt, and gets out of his car. He then opens the back door of his car, reaches in and pulls out a tire iron. I stop my car about 20 feet away, and he starts toward me swinging the tire iron like he is coming up to the plate in a baseball game. I reach into the center console where I had stashed my gun before going into the bank, held it up so he could see it, checked it had a round in the chamber (it was a double action only auto, and you have to pull the trigger to line up the firing pin before the gun will fire) and placed it on the dashboard. He looked at the gun, looked at me, looked at the gun again and decided not to bet his life that I wouldn't shoot him. Got in his car and drove away, still so mad (I still don't know why) that he almost had another accident when he pulled out into traffic coming out of the parking lot.
Last story: I wish I had the magazine I read this in, but I am pretty sure my memory of it is close to what the guy wrote. He was a longtime writer for the magazine and had been a police officer for many years. One day he was at home getting ready to go to work and was in full uniform, gun and all. He loaded his revolver with snap caps (fake cartridges that have some type of spring or some buffer to keep the firing pin from being damaged when dry-firing) and proceeded to walk around his (empty) house drawing and firing at random intervals. Finally it was time to go, so he loaded the gun with live rounds and proceeded to walk past the kitchen door. As he passed to door he wheeled drew, and fired one more time, putting a .38 special round through his wifes brand new refrigerator. I am not certain but I think I remember that he checked behind it and found it had gone through the back but not through the wall behind it. He was much relieved that he would not have to report an accidental discharge to his captain, but I wish I could remember how he told his wife why they would need another new refrigerator.
This was a man who had been around guns all his life, but he still screwed up. He didn't tell this story on himself to say "It's all right to make a mistake." He told it to caution all of us that we have to be aware every minute when we have a gun at hand, and that "It's the UNLOADED gun that usually shoots someone accidentally."
Last, but not least, heres a partial solution to keeping a gun at hand, but keeping the gun away from kids: Buy or modify a nightstand that has a drawer that LOCKS but won't release the key as long as it is UNLOCKED. Put the house and car keys on the same key ring. As long as you control who has the ONLY key to that drawer, the kids can't get to it.
However, I also believe that when they are old enough, you should teach them to shoot. While you are doing that show them what happens to a gallon milk jug filled with water when you hit it even with a .22 cal. bullet. Hitting one with a .357 is spectacular, especially if you use colored water (blood red for preference.)
Regards,
Bill R.
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