A KNIFE FOR SAFEKEEPING

Beside bundles of old papers, there were two things in my grandfather’s cast-iron safe that he would occasionally let me examine. One was his big Colt revolver. Before passing it over to me, Grandfather would carefully empty it of bullets that seemed the size of artillery shells. The other item was a bowie knife that he would wipe down with a rag before handing it to me, saying, “Be careful now—it’s really sharp.” I would reverently take the large knife and admire its shiny blade and horn handle, turning it to reflect the light