A lot of people have told me that I am hard-headed and unable to concede even the most inconsequential argument. I disagree. I admit to nothing without seeing the facts. Just show me the indisputable facts. Then, maybe I'll admit my error.

Most people call it stubborn, thick-headed, relentless, unshakable, obstinate, and even ornery. The Italian expression is "testa dura," literally meaning "head hard." Can I help it if I'm Italian?

The problem is - most people, even some of my best friends, don't understand me, including my wife - especially my wife. I'm sorry, but I can't simply believe someone's word on faith alone. I need proof.

Sometimes, if I know I'm right about something and can prove it, I'll dare my opponent to put their money where their mouth is.

Recently, I was watching a baseball game with a friend. There was a runner on first base, and the pitcher attempted to pick him off several times. Finally, the umpire called the runner out after what looked like a successful pick-off. But I knew better. My friend took sides with the ump. "He's out!" he insisted. "Just wait," I said. "I'll bet you $5 he's safe." Sure enough, the instant slow-motion replay showed the pitcher had balked. Not only was the runner safe, but he was also allowed to advance to second base.

Not surprisingly, my wife and I engage in many heated conversations. We constantly argue. The only time we're not bickering about something is when we're arguing about nothing - which leads me to the story of how I ended up in the hospital before I went to jail.

One day, we had a heated "conversation," surpassing anything we had before. There was a lot of yelling and cursing. Tempers flared to a fever pitch. I was so pissed I dug the old pistol I used years ago for target practice out of the closet and pointed it at my wife. I didn't even know if it was loaded or not. I didn't care. I was out of control.

I must have been in a terrible rage because I fired nine slugs into her body on that awful day. When I realized what I had done, I knew I couldn't live with myself, so I pointed the gun at my head and fired the last bullet.

Then, the craziest thing happened, or more precisely, didn't happen. The slug glanced off of my head. It never penetrated my skull. I was still alive, bleeding from a flesh wound, but alive. How was that possible? - I wondered.

A neighbor heard the gunshots and called the police. They arrived with an EMT and took me to the emergency room. All the doctors and nurses were amazed when they learned what had happened. After they treated me for a minor wound to my head, they took me to jail. That's when I told the arresting officer I only had one regret - My head was too hard for the bullet.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2023 by Michael DeFrancesco