My best friend, emotionally my little brother, has enough guns to outfit a revolution. His dad and I worked together in the military and spent many hours hunting, fishing and drinking together, not necessarily in that order. We were both Maine State Guides and survival instructors. He was like the older brother I never had, and influenced my life, for better or worse, resulting in the man I am today. I miss him every time I think of him.
Back in the
sixties, in Maine, when we were running together, there were no mass shootings
and daily gun violence. We were allowed
to own rifles, shotguns and pistols for hunting but were not allowed to carry
them in our automobiles except during hunting seasons, when we possessed a
valid hunting license; and they had to be visible in a gun rack or on the seat,
unloaded and with the ammo stored in a locked glove compartment or trunk of the
car.
Gun violence
was rare. Sometimes hunting accidents occurred
that were suspicious; but fear of armed thuggery didn’t exist. Kids and young people were not killing each other,
and kids that had access to fire arms were taught to use them safely.
For many of
us our guns were our most prized possessions; but we didn’t consider our guns as
weapons; that mindset came later when military style weaponry became available
to civilians, fueling the outgrowth of militias: insecure males trying to feign
manhood by dressing up in military gear and running around in the woods.
The idea
that any civilian actually needs an assault weapon for home protection is ridiculous. A
shotgun loaded with double-ought buckshot is a more deadly deterrent to a home invasion
than any assault weapon or handgun with an extended clip.
I am not
anti-gun; but you only have to be reasonably intelligent to realize the
connection to the availability of guns, guns designed as military weapons, and
the daily gun violence that plagues the United States.
The genie is
out of the bottle, the nation is armed, and we can never return to those saner
days.
the Ol’Buzzard
