Freud might describe the moment when my father came home to get his gun as the "primal scene" of my life, my first imprinting of fear. Hard to disagree with him. 

Sometimes when I imagine people threatening me (and I do) I picture myself saying, "Look, when I was nine, my dad pointed a gun at me. You really think you can scare me?" Which is bullshit. I'm as scare-able as anybody. The line sounds cool, though. I should put it in one of the movies I'll never make, one of the novels I'll never write. 

I'd give fifty bucks to go back in time and see what happened. Maybe a million, if I had that much. Who can say how much that knowledge would be worth? I might be able to buy it, but it could still make zero difference in my life. Regardless of what happened, I stepped out of the crazy man's way.