Want to start
an argument with an American? Mention guns.
For most Europeans,
I may be preaching to the choir. I’m not sure some Americans understand quite
how provocative guns are in your own society. It goes to the subject of violence,
something taken for granted in large swaths of America: there is it; what can
you do?
Yet in the rest
of the free world, violence is more shocking, whether terroristic or man vs
man, because it happens far less frequently. Disagreements, or even bumping
into someone is not a usual cause for bullying or violence outside America. A
quick, “Sorry,” is usually sufficient.
I didn’t
realize the attitude Europeans had about America until I spent a Christmas in
Wales. A friend and I were spending the three-day Christmas holiday at a castle
filled with mainly touring Australians and wealthy Brits.
During a lull
between Christmas brunch and a seven-course dinner, they had a clay pigeon
shoot. While people in the UK don’t generally own hand guns, I thought it
nothing unusual to see a clay pigeon shoot with rifles. The hunt, after all,
was a thing amongst the very rich, so I have always been led to believe.
I had never
before handled a gun of any sort above the level of water pistol or childhood
“six-shooter” when playing cowboys and Indians (although what the politically
correct term for that is now is anyone’s guess). In fact, I’d only gone outside
to watch.
But my friend,
who had probably learned to shoot before she learned to ride a bike, talked me
into having a go. With no expectation of being able to hit anything, I joined
in the friendly competition. I let the gun master – or whatever he’s called –
teach this lefty how to shoot a right-handed rifle.
At one point
during my turn, I realized that when the clay pigeon disappeared from view
(blocked by the rifle), if I pulled the trigger, I actually hit it. I can’t say
my, “Wow, I hit it!” was actually joy in shooting. I was more than happy for my
turn to be over, despite three hits out of five tries. I’m certain the next
contestant was far less skittish about guns.
When I showed
surprise at having placed in the top three for women, an English woman
commented, “Well, America is a gun
culture, isn’t it?”
I was taken
aback. Yes, we’re allowed to own guns. I don’t. I wasn’t raised around guns. I
didn’t grow up in the wilderness, so, as I see it, I have no need for a gun.
I hate guns. I
abhor the sort of violence they engender. I find commercials about the military
that extol the virtues of warfare offensive. Thank you for your service, but
keep your wars away from me!
This does not
mean I would deny you your right to have a gun, provided you can demonstrate
you’re neither a terrorist nor mentally ill. But keep it away from me.
The very fact
that I would say something like that spurs some of my gun-loving friends and
family members to feel threatened to the point of argument. They often feel the need to try to convince
me to like guns, as if they are entitled to their opinions, but I’m not
entitled to mine.
I will never be
convinced to like guns, to want one or – God forbid – to own one.
My lack of gun
ownership in no way compromises the second Amendment.
I do believe
the Constitution says Americans have the right
to bear arms, not the duty to own them.
Be on your way.
Cherish your pistol. I will continue to exercise my right not to bear arms.
As Hawkeye
Pierce on M.A.S. H. said:
I will not carry a
gun... I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry
on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to Old
Virginia, I'll even 'hari kari' if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!
