I consider myself a Texan. My parents lived in South Louisiana for six years or so and I happened to be born during that time, but other than tiny memories of picking sugar cane with my Dad, fresh crab and watery ditches in front of our duplex, all my memories are from Texas. I love bar-be-cue, pinto beans and cornbread, George Strait, the flatness of West Texas, cowboy boots and iced tea. I am bonified in all aspects except one. I don't love guns. I know, I know. Some of you will stop reading because after that statement, I might as well be from Berkley.
The deal is, I remember the stoic old cowboys of my youth taking their riffles out to put the dog down when he got out and got mostly killed by a car. There was no happiness in this, it was simply what people did who lived in the country and didn't want their animal to suffer for 30 minutes going into town to be euthanized. It was a practical way to get rid of other critters creeping into the garden as well. I remember riding in pick up trucks with guns in the gun rack and never thinking twice about it. Of course these were also the days of heading down a two lane road with a Budweiser between your legs. Shocking today, but probably no more dangerous than texting at 75 miles an hour in 5 lanes of traffic. Sorry, I digress. The point is, there seemed to be more people who shot when I was a kid and far fewer people talking about it. It wasn't a thing, it just was.
I was fine with guns just being. The people I knew who had them were the same people who would stop on the side of the road to help someone who was broken down. The people I knew with guns would tell the neighborhood kids to get a bucket and pick berries off their fence. The people I knew who had guns just had 'em. It was no reflection at all about the fear and hatred they had for 95% of the people on the planet. When guns were part of the average household, I was ambivalent towards them. It is when people started seeing them as a necessary defense against "the ever present evil in society" that I started to dislike them.
Of course I hate the crazy people who take their hatred out by shooting up schools and malls and movie theaters. I want them stopped. It doesn't mean that in response I am going to start wearing shirts that say "I am a packing PTA Mom. Rely on me to go old testament with my 9 millimeter if I see an unidentified twenty-something male in the 3rd grade hall!" It doesn't mean I am going to spend every Lady's night at the gun range honing my skills to kill the masses who are threatening me. I am not going to buy a semi-automatic machine gun so I can shoot all the people who could possibly attack my car when I go buy groceries. Even if my lifestyle warranted paranoia, how much life is a gun going to get me? The gang lifespan doesn't seem to be getting longer since they are all packing.
The crazy in this world does not mean I have to adopt the attitude of basing my life on the fear of being attacked. I would never want to be a person whose collection of weaponry and thoughts of protecting myself from the evil in the world consumed me. That would be...well....crazy. I would rather spend my time eating bar-be-cue and pecan pie, on a float in the middle of a pool, celebrating the fact that in the almost half a century I have been here, no one has ever tried to kill me, even when I have been a self righteous asshole. I love life. I love people. Humans are going to kill good people and bad. Guns are a very efficient way to make that happen. That is why I don't love guns. If ya'll think that makes me a bad Texan, well, I suppose I can have Tex-Mex shipped to Berkley.
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I think most little boys have always had an infatuation with guns. First it starts with a B-B gun, then a pelet gun and finally a 22 rifle. That reminds me of a joke, What did the mother cannonball say to the father cannonball? …...... J an going to have a B-B. At this stage, to boys, guns are more like toys. Like sling shots (I wish there was a more descriptive word for a sling shot, because that is actually what David slew Goliath with), bows and arrows, etc. All that gets shot are cans and boxes so that the boy can develop his marksman skills.
ReplyDeleteAround the time I got in high school, it was time to progress to hunting. One night me and my best friend Dave Lyons took our 22's and a box of shorts out spot lighting jackrabbits. We were on a deserted dirt road in Dave's new 61 Chevy. We spotted a jackrabbit in the road about 150 yards down the road. Dave stopped the car and I said that it was too far away. Dave paid no heed and opened his door. Using the roof of his car for a steady rest, he began firing. The headlights were on the rabbit, bullets were kicking up dirt around the rabbit and he started running toward us. Dave was shooting at him all the way. The frightened rabbit finally stopped next to the front wheel on my side. Dave's last shot went through the hood and the top of the radiator. It is not often that one bags a 62 Chevy on a hunting trip.
I remember one other hunting trip that I went on with Rex. He had a shotgun (probably his dad's) and I was unarmed. We were after the ferocious doves that plagued the pastures south of Bowie. Aftre Rex had missed a few, I said, let me try a shot. Well, low and behold, I hit one. I felt terrible. That was the only living thing that I ever killed with a firearm.
Later, I was going through basic training. I actually qualified expert with an M-14 rifle. My MOS was “mortar man” and my basic weapon was a 45 pistol so I had to qualify with it. This involved hitting a silhouette target from a distance of 12 to 50 feet. Try as I might, I never hit it once. If I am armed with a hand gun, my only protection is from bystanders.
For the next few years, I did not begrudge others that were infatuated with guns, I just did not want anything to do with them. Then many people started feeling the need to have a gun for protection. I had a secretary back in the 80's that bought a gun for protection. She was burgled and the gun was stolen. This same gun was used to kill someone. At this point, I began to think that all guns should be abolished. As time goes by, that feeling has been reinforced. Many people get guns out of fear, but what they should be afraid of is guns, any guns. I know that hunting is a hobby and a sport and that people eat their kill, but it is not a necessity. I say, do away with all guns and I am as big a Texan as you are.
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ReplyDeleteI love you Dad. But, I am glad you became completely anti-gun AFTER you witnessed the death of the 62 Chevy. That is one of my favorite stories, well, and the one where your crazy friends shot each other with bb's? Which in and of itself is a reason for no guns.
ReplyDeleteThose BB's were actually shotgun pellets. I had 4 friends, Tim, Dudley, Jimmy (and I can not remember the 4th) that would play an early version of paint ball with shotguns. They would shield themselves with Levi jackets. I never witnessed a game. Only heard about them. They would sometimes get close enough that the blast would almost knock them down.
DeleteTim was also a fast draw enthusiast. He was actually a faster shot than draw. He shot himself in the calf and the bullet which lodged in his ankle is still there. Shortly after this occurred, Lee and I were studying at Tim's. Neither of us minded being around Tim as long as he was unarmed. Lee and I were trying to concentrate when Tim walked in twirling a pistol. We knew he was trying to scare us, so we tried to ignore him. After a few minutes, a shot rang out. Lee and I fell to the floor, trying to use each other as a shield. When the rininging in our ears stopped, we noticed laughter and realized we had been had. Tim had a starter pistol. As I think back on this episode,
I think that perhaps it would be a great idea to replace everyone's pistol with a starter pistol and blanks. They could ever use my 45 caliber pencil for scoring during practice. I had forgotten to say that also scored expert with the 45.