I am going to take a break from Politics this month. With gun control rhetoric in the news and a new anti-gun Supreme Court nominee by the current occupant of the Whitehouse, I just cannot take it anymore!
Let’s just sit back and talk about the joys we get from firearms ownership. I say firearms because too many people refer to any gun as a weapon. When teaching gun classes I always say “firearm”, whether it is a weapon or not depends on the circumstances of my usage.
While many of us may have first seen firearms used in the movies or television, my first actual experience with a gun not an air rifle was with a .22 Long Rifle pump action long gun.
Long graceful curved lines, deep dark bluing on the metal parts and a silky smooth oiled wood stock just like fine furniture. Each part has a function, simple and efficient in design and precise in execution. Even today I sometimes think of gun design as art.
At first I was under the careful direction and control of my Grandfather. “Papa” taught me to plant the stock firmly into my shoulder, “you shake hands with a pistol and you hug a rifle”. He taught me how to breathe and to shoot from a rest to prevent movement, shooting from standing or kneeling positions would come later.
“Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it” he would remind me, and the relationship between the front sight and the rear sight quickly became clear in both my mind and eye. Today a crystal clear sight picture is something my ageing eyes only vaguely remember, as I relay the same advice to my own Grandsons.
I remember the first time I was allowed to go out with the rifle by myself, the feeling of pride and accomplishment was almost overwhelming. I had been taught the mechanics of shooting, and the ethics of using a firearm. Now at the age of Eight years old I was entrusted with great responsibility.
Pirates were fabled to lust over chests of buried treasure: gold coins with rubies and emeralds. To me there was nothing more beautiful than a new box of 22’s, and my eyes rolled into my head if Papa gave me a whole brick (500). The brass color of the bullets was my gold; I could run my fingers through them and envision the fun ahead.
50 rounds was a whole afternoon of shooting, tin cans would fall before me, each shot closer to the center , and paper targets were suitably shredded. By the end of the day I was playing the same games as the boys on the basketball court. If I make this shot I will “Save the World” The Crowd Roars! Earth is Saved!
That is how I like to think of my beginnings with this fine pastime. That is why it is worth our time to take the young people in your family to the Range and pass your knowledge and family heritage on to the next generation.
Is it a weapon? It can be, it is up to us to know the difference.
