Sorry, I know it's a touchy subject. I hate them, too, he had probably 50 or more, plus a lot of big hunting knives. After he died, they were parceled out to sisters and BIL's who all hunt. Except, irony, one, his 0.22 pistol. My mother wouldn't give it away because they all wanted it and she thought it would create hurt feelings. I never understood why she would even want it in the house - I always thought it was way more complicated than that, her reason seemed disingenuous, but I never pushed it.

I can't begin to believe how irresponsible that act was of me, I could have been in a really bad position if I had been seen by anyone, I could have faced felony charges and my career would have been over. Of course, I also could have offed myself, but looking back, it was desperation, not desire or intent, so I'm glad I managed to pull up survival instinct at the last minute. I guess they will all be surprised some day when they discover it's not in the locked metal box buried high on a closet shelf in the spare bedroom. C'est la vie, the local pd took it for surrender and melted it down. Just told them the truth, it was my father's and had sat in a closet for 15 years and I just wanted it gone.

I only associate them with death, it was the only reason I could handle it. Never again.