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RICHARD BROOKHISER
She and Bill were guests once at my house upstate. They had been driven all the way from Stamford to the eastern Catskills, a long way made longer by a wrong turn. Pat gazed from the backseat, through sunglasses, a King Charles spaniel on her lap. "Are we still in the United States?"
I had a practical question I wanted to pose them, especially her, knowing she was a crack shot. Raccoons get rabies, and I had seen one in the early stages. What would they recommend for varmint control? Ashotgun, was the consensus. A while after that, I got a call from Linda Bridges, who had a mysterious package for me at the office. "What does it look like?" I asked her.
"I think it's a gun," she said.
"I think I know why," I said.
It was a .20 gauge, side by side, Spanish, with etchings of pheasants and hunting dogs, and a set of initials: PTB.
Mr. Brookhiser is an NR senior editor.