Front Sight, Press

Something that really bugs me — bugs me bad.

As you know, I spend a part of each day scanning every news feed I can find for gun news of any kind. I read all the crimes, the stupidity and accidents. The thing that really tears me up — that makes me want to go out and campaign for gun control — is when I read stories of little kids getting their hands on their parents’ guns and shooting themselves or a brother or sister. It happens a lot, even in the homes of cops who should know better. People hide guns under their beds, in sofas, end table drawers — all kinds of stupid places where a four-year-old can find them. When the local DA throws the book at the negligent parent, I cheer. Serves them right. Horse whipping and water-boarding is too good for them.

When I was a kid, there were always guns around. They were usually hunting guns that were stored unlocked but also unloaded. I was a snoopy little doodle and I went through every closet and drawer in every house I stayed in, my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I never once, in all of those years, found a loaded handgun lying around where a child could get it. Once my sister and I were grown, but before we had kids, my dad would keep a loaded .38 in a drawer in the den, but once we had our kids, the revolver went away and I never saw it again.

Don’t be an accessory to a tragedy. Wear your gun or lock it up when the kids are small. Once they get bigger, teach them safe gun handling; let them shoot and see the capability of the gun. That was my formula and it worked with my kids. Today, my sons, 19 and 21, know where all of my guns are, and which ones are loaded. I don’t worry about them a bit because I’ve been hunting and shooting matches with them since they were doodles. When they have their kids, all of my guns except the one on my hip will be unloaded and locked up again. You might say it’s a family tradition.