This week’s issue of The New England Journal of Medicine contains a commentary titled “Firearm-Related Discussions as an Age-Friendly Intervention.” In its 2nd paragraph, the authors note that ”An average of 21 adults 65 years of age or older die from firearm-related injuries each day in the United States, more than 90% from suicide.” They recommend that doctors have respectful discussions with older patients about safe storage of firearms during discussions about home safety or annual wellness visits. I also recommend conversations of this sort but believe that they should include gun owners of all ages and adolescents.

As I read the commentary, I recalled an evening 27 years ago when I spoke about “Gun Violence as a Public Health Issue” at a community forum in Colorado Springs.

My host was Dr. Ted Eastburn, a college classmate and longtime friend. He was one of Colorado Springs’ leading doctors and a member of its City Council. Trained in Cardiology at Vanderbilt, Ted had worked with Dr. Bill Frist, a heart surgeon, to establish Vanderbilt’s heart transplant program. Dr. Frist was later elected to the U.S. Senate and Ted moved to Colorado Springs, where he decided to try his hand at politics, too.

In retrospect, I don’t know which of us was more naïve – Ted for inviting me, or me for accepting. The Columbine High School massacre had occurred only five months before, and nerves were still raw.

When the National Rifle Association (NRA) learned that I was coming, they sent a blast fax to its Colorado members urging them to “Stop Kellermann from bringing East Coast Style Gun Control to Colorado Springs”. On the night of my talk, several hundred of them showed up. After filling the small, steep-banked auditorium, the rest packed the building’s hallways or demonstrated outside. Many carried hand-painted signs or wore pro-gun bumper stickers on their chests. They were not in a friendly mood.

I decided to open with a little humor, then get straight to the point.

Noting that guns are second only to abortion as a contentious issue in American society, I advised the crowd that “It’s important to know where your speaker is coming from.” In my best Southern accent, I began. “I was born & raised in East Tennessee, in a gun-owning family. My daddy taught me to shoot at the age of ten. He also taught me that owning and keeping a firearm is a tremendous responsibility that can never be taken lightly.” [Looks and nods around the crowd].

I continued. “After medical school, I moved to Seattle, Washington for five additional years of training, then returned to Tennessee to work. I knew I was back home when I pulled up to a car at an intersection, and their bumper sticker read, ‘We don’t give a damn how you did it up North’” [Faint chuckles]. “And friends, I know that you don’t give a damn how we do it back East.”

The crowd roared in agreement. As the whooping, hollering and sign-waving subsided, I raised my hand and the room fell silent. “So let me be clear. I’m not here to tell you what to do. You will decide what’s best for your community, your schools, and your families, not me. All I ask is that you hear me out.” To their credit, they did.

For the next half hour, I spoke about the importance of responsible gun ownership, our shared interest in keeping as many guns out of the hands of criminals as possible, and the value of discouraging bad guys from illegally carrying guns and stopping those that do before the 911 call.

When I began to review studies that show that keeping a readily accessible gun in your home for protection increases the risk of harm to your family, the growling started up again. “Hold on,” I said. “I didn’t shoot these folks. All I did was count them.”

To my great surprise, when the evening wrapped up, I received polite applause. Western hospitality had prevailed. More remarkably, about 30 attendees lined up and shook my hand. One said, “Doc, we were lied to about you. I don’t agree with everything you said, but I’m OK with 90 percent of it.” I replied, “In the U.S.A. that’s a win for both of us.”

Eight years later, my college buddy Ted’s life took a tragic turn when his adopted son committed suicide at age 22. He had volunteered for the Army at age 17 and later served a tour of duty in Iraq. On the eve of being deployed to Afghanistan, he shot himself.

The loss of his son devastated Ted. Although he appeared to recover, his patients and his community were stunned when, in 2010, Ted also committed suicide. A gun was found at the scene, according to Colorado Springs police.

Two years later, in Newtown CT. a 20-year-old man shot and killed his mother in the home they shared. Then, armed with three of her guns, he shot his way into nearby Sandy Hook Elementary School, where he killed six additional adults and 20 first-grade children.

One month after this massacre, Dr. Fred Rivara and I published an editorial in JAMA decrying efforts to silence firearm injury prevention research. We noted that injury prevention research can have real and lasting benefits: “Over the last 20 years, the number of Americans dying in motor vehicle crashes has decreased by 31%. Deaths from fires and drowning have been reduced even more, by 38% and 52%, respectively. This progress was achieved without banning automobiles, swimming pools, or matches.”

One simple but potentially powerful way to reduce firearm-related deaths of men, women and children is by urging gun owners to safely store every firearm they keep in their home. This simple but powerful act could reduce the flow of firearms to criminals through burglary or theft, diminish school shootings, decrease deaths due to domestic violence and prevent a potentially substantial number of firearm suicides. We need not wait on the Trump administration or Congress to act. We can begin by urging more doctors and citizens to have honest and thoughtful conversations about gun safety.

There is no transcript or video of my talk in Colorado Springs so my remarks reflect my recollection of events. They are as faithful as my memory allows. Other details of the evening were omitted for the sake of brevity. My views are my own, but they are backed by 25 years of firearm injury prevention research.