Things My Wife Drags Home

Some would say I am a fortunate man. I have a wife who collects old C&R guns. That may seem like a blessing, until one realizes she is into shabby chic, British Colonial style, when it comes to her armament. She seems to know every old Mauser purveyor at the gun shows on a first name basis before I have the show scoped out for Smith & Wessons and Colts. I am lucky if she has not already made a purchase by the time I find her again.

My dear wife shoots her firearms, but just as important to her is how it accents the ambiance of the interior she is decorating. Clean unblemished stocks will not do for this lady. She prefers the ravages of war to be displayed in full effect across the grain of her Enfields. She is often amazed as I bring the price of a Turkish relic to less than a hundred dollars simply by telling the dealer what I will pay. My wife thinks I am a genius when it comes to gun bargaining.

Unfortunately, she also brings home other eclectic items. The latest was an old Corona typewriter. I could have said "What are you going to do with that?" I knew, however, that she would explain it would rest on her desk next to the 1940s telephone that does not work, and which is too heavy to cradle on her shoulder anyway.

"Cell phones are for communicating, this one is for looking at," she had informed me. Truthfully, I am simply thankful that she has met her goals in taxidermy acquisitions. After a Russian boar, a dusty pheasant, and an American Bison, she brought home the "Ugly Thing" last year. That was a horned, flat headed creature that continues to molt on my desk any time the wicker inlaid ceiling fans are activated.

The windfall of her eccentricity is I never have to hide my old guns from my wife. She may not understand why I search for finer examples, but she has never questioned the historical significance of guns like crushed Victory Models. Indeed, she revels in my descriptions of my old guns. She enjoys the history etched onto their surfaces by years of carry. There is danger in this, however.

When I showed her my Smith & Wesson .38 Double Action 4th Model, that I had spontaneously purchased at a gun show in January, she took it from my hands, telling me that an anniversary gift would be unnecessary this year. She's a slick one, that woman. She knows the eleventh and thirtieth are years for steel and pearl. One is past, the other is yet to be. Still, she has never questioned my purchase of a gun I will not shoot, just as I have never questioned her purchase of a keyboard she will never peck at, or a telephone she will never speak on. She has her idiosyncrasies, and I have my own. I also have the combination to my safe.