I'm a Lucky Man
Several years ago, my dad was fighting a loosing battle with prostate cancer. He was doing chemo and radiation and was in a tremendous amount of pain. He loved guns, he liked fixing broken things, and loved doing things with his hands. He was at a point where going out into the desert to shoot was not much of an option, but my mom and I decided that he needed something to take his mind off of the pain.
At one of the local gun stores there was a pair of well-used "CCPD" 67-1's. They showed their years of being holstered and carried around by people who worked hard and viewed their revolver as nothing more than a tool. The grips were very worn and were pretty beat up from being banged into various immovable objects. These 67-1's had languished on the gun store shelf for several months and had no takers at $299 each. I had looked at them several times, but they were just too beat up to peek my interest. However, with a different perspective of what they could become in the talented hands of my father, I negotiated the best price that I could for one of the guns (OTD for $280) and gave it to my father.
He was excited to have something to do. He spent hours reshaping the stocks to fit his rather small hands. He sanded, filed and polished all of the nicks and scratches out of the stainless steel and he seemed to have a renewed energy for life. Every time I saw him, he pulled out his project and showed me the progress that he was making.
Eventually, the cancer caught up with him. Too soon - for many reasons. He felt a little concerned that he never got to put the finishing touches on the stocks. He passed away almost 4 years ago. Shortly after his passing, my mom pulled out the now finely-polished, shiny 67-1 and we sat there, smiled and cried. She handed me the gun and the not-quite-finished grips and told me that he wanted me to have the gun back. That was like my dad - always fixing broken things, be they guns, bikes, tables, doors, or even people themselves, and returning them in better condition, infused with a small bit of the good man that he was.
I brought the CCPD revolver home, spent a few hours sanding and refinishing the stocks, all the while remembering the good times that I had spent with that wonderful man.
During the Holidays, I miss him. However, when I pull out this 67-1, I smile... cry a little... remember one of the finest men I have ever known,... and count myself lucky that he was my father.
Here are a few shots of the finished project (I forgot to take the "before" photos):
Merry Christmas Dad, I Love You!