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Why Would You Ever Want To Shoot A Gun?
Josey1
Member Posts: 9,598 ✭✭
Why Would You Ever Want To Shoot A Gun?
By Candace Faber
When my virgin trigger finger first felt the cold steel of a real weapon, the touch sent shivers through my whole being. My dad had a BB gun when I was a little girl, but I have seen those pellets and they were nothing compared to the heavy pieces of metal I loaded into the cylinder on a .357 revolver this past April. Almost as pounding as the cacophony of shooting range noises filtering through my ear protection were the invisible voices of my friends, colleagues, and fellow students: "Why would you ever want to shoot a gun?"
Tossing in my bed the other night, I continued to ponder the same question; my conclusions, however, came more from my single experience in the responsible practice of gun use then in the dozens of talking points argued back and forth on the evening NPR show I stumbled across on the shower radio.
Indeed, I was shaking as I held the revolver in front of me, but not because of the weight of the object. I was afraid, my head clouded by thoughts such as, "This thing is stronger than I am," and, "What if I can't control it?" It took me three rounds to realize that those fears were nothing but lies.
I cannot precisely define the moment when it hit me, but the second time I adjusted my goggles and stepped into the bay it was not with fear, but with a determination to improve and to hit my mark. Initial fear tightened my chest, making it hard to concentrate on where I should be shooting, but as my muscles started to relax, I could feel the more subtle details of the experience: the effect on my muscles of the "kick" of the gun, the precise center of the target I longed to hit, the small adjustments I could make with my hands to get me nearer to that goal. The tightness never completely left me, but there was an inexplicable freedom in knowing that I was not doing anything wrong by aiming at this piece of recycled paper seven yards away.
Returning to my questions of the other night, I remember the nightmares I had as a child. I never feared fire, or monsters, but my nightmares consisted of "bad people" breaking into our house and taking our things or hurting my family. As I shivered yet again at the thought of some physically strong and possibly armed man crawling through my beautiful little sister's window, I know why I would really want to shoot a gun. The vision of a world where arms are found only in the hands of criminals is incredibly frightening. In a world where short sighted individuals work day in and day out to restrict our rights and turn this ominous vision into reality, it is not just our individual freedoms that are at stake, but the entire American experience of liberty.
My day at the range was powerful, enlightening, and dare I say - fun, but most importantly, I realized that I not only have the right, but the physical and mental ability to defend the things I care about, even in the most extreme of situations. It is a demanding responsibility to bear, not one to ever be taken lightly, and although I am still not certain if or when I myself will own a gun, I have finally realized that the liberty to do so is absolutely priceless.
http://www.armedfemalesofamerica.com/archive.php?aid=613
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
By Candace Faber
When my virgin trigger finger first felt the cold steel of a real weapon, the touch sent shivers through my whole being. My dad had a BB gun when I was a little girl, but I have seen those pellets and they were nothing compared to the heavy pieces of metal I loaded into the cylinder on a .357 revolver this past April. Almost as pounding as the cacophony of shooting range noises filtering through my ear protection were the invisible voices of my friends, colleagues, and fellow students: "Why would you ever want to shoot a gun?"
Tossing in my bed the other night, I continued to ponder the same question; my conclusions, however, came more from my single experience in the responsible practice of gun use then in the dozens of talking points argued back and forth on the evening NPR show I stumbled across on the shower radio.
Indeed, I was shaking as I held the revolver in front of me, but not because of the weight of the object. I was afraid, my head clouded by thoughts such as, "This thing is stronger than I am," and, "What if I can't control it?" It took me three rounds to realize that those fears were nothing but lies.
I cannot precisely define the moment when it hit me, but the second time I adjusted my goggles and stepped into the bay it was not with fear, but with a determination to improve and to hit my mark. Initial fear tightened my chest, making it hard to concentrate on where I should be shooting, but as my muscles started to relax, I could feel the more subtle details of the experience: the effect on my muscles of the "kick" of the gun, the precise center of the target I longed to hit, the small adjustments I could make with my hands to get me nearer to that goal. The tightness never completely left me, but there was an inexplicable freedom in knowing that I was not doing anything wrong by aiming at this piece of recycled paper seven yards away.
Returning to my questions of the other night, I remember the nightmares I had as a child. I never feared fire, or monsters, but my nightmares consisted of "bad people" breaking into our house and taking our things or hurting my family. As I shivered yet again at the thought of some physically strong and possibly armed man crawling through my beautiful little sister's window, I know why I would really want to shoot a gun. The vision of a world where arms are found only in the hands of criminals is incredibly frightening. In a world where short sighted individuals work day in and day out to restrict our rights and turn this ominous vision into reality, it is not just our individual freedoms that are at stake, but the entire American experience of liberty.
My day at the range was powerful, enlightening, and dare I say - fun, but most importantly, I realized that I not only have the right, but the physical and mental ability to defend the things I care about, even in the most extreme of situations. It is a demanding responsibility to bear, not one to ever be taken lightly, and although I am still not certain if or when I myself will own a gun, I have finally realized that the liberty to do so is absolutely priceless.
http://www.armedfemalesofamerica.com/archive.php?aid=613
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
Comments
- Life NRA Member
"If cowardly & dishonorable men shoot unarmed men with army guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary...and not by general deprivation of constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
If I'm wrong please correct me, I won't be offended.
The sound of a 12 gauge pump clears a house fatser than Rosie O eats a Big Mac !
Bartman
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