Safety

I

Years and years ago, in Georgia, during our poor days, we were at a yard sale and I spotted a chainsaw for just $10. It was small, bright yellow, and just $10. I put in a suggestion on it, but it was determined that our financial situation couldn't bear even a cute yellow ten-dollar chainsaw. I moved on, as one does.

II

Five or six years later, there was a weird situation at our apartment. Someone was honking endlessly at the apartments next door to our units, and I finally went over and told the driver that it seemed likely nobody was home, or they’d have come out, and they left, and when I turned around, several folks from my apartment unit had come out and were watching, and made comments about me being brave to go over like that with nothing in my hand.

My next door neighbor, the architect, reached behind himself and held up a.45-looking pistol that he'd had tucked in the waistband of his jogging pants. Other neighbors said some words that gave me an impression there might have been a shotgun or rifle nearby as well.

It felt a little odd, going back inside like everything was normal and all over, and I reminded Cathy of the time she hadn’t let me buy the little chainsaw at the yard sale. “Because, you know,” I said, “A man should be able to protect his home.”

And I figured then, as I do now, that if I was a burglar in someone’s home, and I heard a chainsaw start up in the next room, I’d simply leave.

But I guess I’ll never know! I don't have a chainsaw.
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