Wake Up America
I really intended to stay apolitical when I began writing this blog. I fully meant and still do to make this blog for people that are really concerned about facts and trends related to gun ownership and to help people decide whether they should be purchasing and or carrying a gun for sport or self protection. But, “Oh no” . When people keep insisting on doing and saying the dumbest things about such deadly things as firearms I can only take so much before I have to say something. So in order not to confuse fact with fiction and so as to try to keep my personal feelings separated from my educational blog post I will ever so often title a blog post ” My Two Cents “. These post will just be that, my two cents. They will be my opinions about things going on in the world that effect gun ownership and usage and that I think are so crazy that I feel the need to say something about them. First let me tell you a bit about myself and how I came to be writing this blog.
I grew up on a small farm in Eastern Kentucky . We raised tobacco. Had a few milk cows. Two mules with which we worked the crops. Chickens for meat and eggs. A couple of horses which we rode . And guns with which we hunted and protected out farm from various critters. I got my first gun when I was eight years old. It was a twelve gauge single shot shotgun with a wire strung barrel and a short wooden stock. It kicked the shit out of me and gave me a sense of how powerful and devastating a gun could be. It was called a Nitro Hunter and I don’t remember the maker. My Dad and Grandfather taught me how to safely hunt rabbits, birds and squirrels. My Grandfather and his brother liked shooting clay pigeons or skeet and would travel many miles up into Ohio to go to regional and national shoots. My Father had been a Kentucky State Trooper down in Wolfe County and still had a pistol from those days. A Smith and Wesson 38 revolver which we shot at cans and had a nice kick itself. He also carried it when we went hunting but I never saw him shoot an animal with it. Those were great days whether warm and sunny in the fall or cold and snowy in the winter. Though I loved to fish, hunting was much more exciting. To be walking along and have a covey of quail explode in front of you, going every which way was a thrill. But then my Dad, following the great migration for work moved our family to the suburbs of southern Ohio around Cincinnati everything began to change. We hunted much less. My Grandfather died. We traveled back to Kentucky only on rare weekends where I mostly set on front porches and messed around talking to cousins who now called me a Buckeye for moving away to Ohio. I did meet one friend that had guns and we would hunt and camp in the woods around our houses and occasionally travel east to some land that an older friend of ours owned. But mostly I traded my hunting for playing music and smoking pot. Girls, of course became the prey of the day. The touch of soft skin became my catch and I traded duck blinds for the backseat of my 64 Buick Convertible. Then Vietnam.
I was fat, slow and afraid. My friends were coming home crippled and really different. Not much talking about the war from them but the T.V. never shut up about it. I knew enough to know that something was fucked up about that war. Something really wrong. Too many unanswered questions about our purpose for being there. Too many boys my age dying and coming home addicted to either alcohol or drugs trying to mask the memories of blood and death. Guns moved from being just cool tools for having fun while hunting with your folks to some kind of evil things that killed dads, moms and kids. They were now being used by some of the guys I knew to kill themselves. I put away the guns because they now had a dark side. Here we are 50 years later and I want to shoot again. I want to start over with the fun of plinking tin cans and aiming at targets. I’ve also been rethinking the whole idea of carrying a gun for self protection. Is it just a longing for the past coupled with a new kind of fear? Very much the same kind of fear that I had during the Vietnam era has come back to haunt me. But now I have grown. I know better about a lot of things but I still know that there is much to learn. I am now the Grandfather, the Dad and the protector of my family. So therefore I’m writing this blog, shouldicarryagun.com . Read it and we might learn something about life by reading about guns.