When Dave, my husband, and I first married, he spent some time with my parents, but not enough to know their thoughts on certain issues. Keep this in mind as I share this story:

Back in the early 90s, we attended Trinidad State Junior College in Trinidad, Colorado. He majored in gunsmithing while I majored in Drafting and Civil Engineering Technology.

We had to take jobs in the summer to help pay for–everything. He repaired roofs in Denver with a friend, while I worked at the Rio Grande National Forest as a land surveyor.

We visited our parents a few weeks before our prospective jobs started. I told my mom about my new job, and she said, “Do you have a firearm?”

I said, “My Ruger .22 revolver.”

She glared at my new husband and said, “You let my daughter carry a .22?!”

I stifled a grin knowing exactly where this was headed; I also knew that Dave didn’t know my parents well enough yet to know why my mom seemed so upset. He told me later that he thought, “Great. My mother-in-law is anti-gun.”

She asked the question again, but tish louder. I’m trying not to laugh at this point. All Dave could do was stare at her (she was a tiny thing, but could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be).

Finally she jumped to her feet and said, “That’s not big enough!”

I don’t remember for certain, but I may have finally burst out laughing here.

She stomped to her bedroom, came out a few minutes later and shoved a stainless steel, Smith and Wesson Lady Smith snubbed-nose .38 revolver at me. “Now that’s big enough for my daughter!” She also told me that if I decided not to keep it, she had first dibs to buy it back.

I still have it, and although she passed away almost eight years ago now, I have no plans on selling it. It’ll always remind me of her and how quickly (and uncomfortably) my husband learned that they had more than me in common.