The Gun

An American Way of Life

I grew up in lowcountry South Carolina where familiarity with sporting equipment, fishing and hunting, was a way of life. Access to decent fishing areas was abundant and I loved being out on the water. My best friend and I spent summers fishing for large mouth bass, warmouth bass and Bluegill, usually being very successful, cleaning and eating our own catch of the day. It was a wonderful carefree time of life that I wish every young person could experience.

My training with firearms began at a young age also, but I was heavily supervised until I was 13 when I was given my first firearm, a single shot 20 gauge, that served me well hunting dove, rabbit and squirrel. Dove hunting was my favorite and I learned how to properly clean, prepare and cook my kill. There is nothing quite like the taste of wild meat properly prepared.

As my father taught me basic gun and hunting safety skills he told me a story about he and his father when he was learning to hunt. They were out on my grandfather’s farm in the upstate area of South Carolina and came upon a wire fence they needed to cross. Grandfather was wearing his panama hat - a wide brimed outdoors hat - and smoking a cigar on that day. He taught my dad to always put the gun over the fence first before stepping over it, raising his shotgun and setting it firmly on the other side - at which point his shotgun went off, blew off the front end of his panama hat and the tip of his cigar, still in his mouth. He was so stunned by this he turned pale and had to sit down on the ground. A more unlikely scene for my stoical, and often hard, grandfather is unimaginable to me. But he did make an unforgettable point; always check your safety and keep that barrel away from your face and anyone else.

When I was a boy and young man the National Rifle Association was primarily an organization that supported hunters, their education, and dispersed helpful information for that sport. During my lifetime that organization moved into a much more aggressive stance on the type of arms they fought to make available for the public and became highly political in nature. I’m a firm believer in common sense gun control; it should be more difficult to get a a gun permit than a driver’s license. And certain weapons do not belong in the public domain at all.

I recently cleaned my weapons and found myself sitting silently while intently looking at my rifle. If RFK Jr. has his way and the FDA quits food inspections will I one day need to kill my own game for food, just like my ancestors did? That is not beyond the realm of possibility I suppose. I could also fish, set traps, and the list goes on. But there is a possibility I have attempted to ignore and no longer can.

I went through a period of life, for around 10 years or so, when I had no weapons with me at all. I turned from a life I had, into a life that was dramatically different, and I left those weapons behind. At that same time a friend of mine doubled down on the life we had been living, and doubled down on his access to weapons as well. It’s my understanding he never went anywhere where he wasn’t strapped, and invested in a machine gun for additional protection. It did not matter, my friend died a violent death anyway.

So I sit here and look at these weapons, the good and the harm they can do, and wonder if this deterioration in our culture will one day require me to use one of them to defend someone I love, or even a complete stranger. Will the bullet I one day fire be for another human being, in order to save another human being? People seem to be stockpiling up on firearms and ammunition at an accelerating rate, preparing for the worst type of social disasters imaginable. It is not a flattering comment on our current administration or it’s “leadership.”

I wonder how many of these people consider the costs of taking another human life, even if completely justifiable. Having experienced violence in various forms I pray the worst does not happen, that we can find our way out of this deplorable situation without violence of any type. Make no mistake; the experience of violence leaves a deep scar on the soul and spirit of anyone who participates in it in any form. Hollywood may glorify violence, but the reality is that violence is destructive in ways not imagined until you experience it. You will never be the same.

This is a subject I did not want to write on. But I found it unavoidable as the question I reflect on often is one I hope to never answer. My friend was armed and died because of a life he chose, a life that always had an element of violence possible. How will I feel, and how will it effect me, as Christ follower, a law abiding citizen who works, pays taxes and obeys the law if I must use my weapons against others to protect those I love. It’s a question I should not even have to consider. Yet, here we are.