Men and Firearms

"Easy now line up the sights and squeeze the trigger", my grandfather whispered as I held the Remington .22 rifle.  A moment later the telltale crack was heard as the bullet raced to the tin can sitting on an old stump only 20 yards away.  The can flew up into the air and I yelled "Yes!."  My grandfather, who had seen this many times in the past said.  Good shot but you didn't hit the can.  "What do you mean I didn't hit the can?  I will just run down to the stump and get the can and show you.", I replied.

Moments later I returned with the can and sure enough there wasn't a hole in it.  The only thing about the can that appeared different was a bit of gritty Pennsylvania mud on the base .  "You hit directly under it.",  Gramp said in a matter of fact way.   It didn't matter to me.  In my mind I was happy and I was totally hooked on this interesting device called a gun. 

What is it that attracts a man to firearms?  Perhaps it is the raw power one feels when behind one or maybe it is loud noise it makes when fired, or maybe the joy of hitting a tiny target 100 yards away.  I don't know, but whatever it is, is unique to men.  I know, I know women enjoy shooting also, but somehow I don't think it is the same as it is with a man.  There is something unique about a man and his shotgun or rifle.  Men have used guns to hunt food for their family, defend and fight for our country.  They are as much a part of America as the apple pie or the American flag.

Those who find guns appalling  need to understand how owning a gun is an American tradition that has shaped us. It is part of who we are as a society.  Personally I have no desire to hunt animals or harm others.  I simply and plainly enjoy shooting.  I have no trouble with those who hunt as it is an excellent past time which can provide the family with healthy and unprocessed food as well as various clothing items such as gloves and coats.  I grew up with hunters all around me and they are a great bunch of people.  I'd take a bunch of hunters as friends any day to the average liberal coward we have turned out in our major cities.

Well I am 38 now and I guess you could say I have my own .22.  One day, just as my grandfather did, I will take my son to the shooting range and show him how to hit that tin can.  Gramp, I love you, and thanks for taking a kid shooting.


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