NO! I am not leaving America. But, I think I figured out why the Fox News article about the weapons cache being found in Zuccotti Park has me so upset. Yes, I probably should have taken the time to understand my anger BEFORE I wrote the article, but I didn’t. To all those who are offended by the subject matter or even some of the less than proper Queen’s English, I apologize. But after I went to bed last night I tossed and turned all night and finally fell asleep just as it was getting time to take my pistol-packing, AR-15 toting wife to work. That’s right, my beautiful 5’1″ wife is a correctional officer, read PRISON GUARD. But I will write more about her and the women of my family in another article.
Back to my revelation. It dawned on me, that the country that I love, the Constitution that I swore to protect and defend from all enemies foreign and domestic, all the things that I love about America are truly DEAD.
MY America was a beautiful country. In the 50’s and 60’s things were quite different. I bought my first real firearm with money I had saved from mowing yards for $2.00 a piece. It was a Harrison and Richardson .22 caliber 9 shot revolver. I paid about $25.00 for it and a case, not not a brick but a case, of ammunition. My older brother, he’s 12 years than me, drove me to town to buy it because it was too far to ride my bicycle. (At least that was according to my mother who let us use the car.) I guess I was ever bit of 10 years old. My next weapon was a 1944 German 8mm mauser. I bought it at a drugstore that had a whole rack of rifles in the center of the store. I paid the princely sum of $28.00 for the rifle and every box of 8mm ammunition they had. Dad helped me pick out the rifle but no one asked to see my driver’s license or did a background check. I was 11 years old and it didn’t make any difference if my ad was there or not. No one would have called Homeland Security. In that day and age an 8mm rifle was homeland security.
Even before I bought those weapons I had been taught to shoot by my older brother and sister, Dad, uncles and everyone else. If I came home from school and grabbed my grandfather’s double barrel 12 guage shotgun or my older brother’s 16 guage bolt action shotgun, do you know what my mother would say to me? Did you finish your homework? That was it. Did you finish your homework? I would walk out into the fields behind the house and hunt squirrels, rabbits, quail, dove or whatever else we would eat. Me and my buddies, all between the ages of 10 to 12 years old, would consider it a Godsend when a farmer would let us shoot pidgeons from around their silos. Many farmers would let us shoot blackbirds in their rice, corn and sorghum crops to keep from losing so much grain to the birds. By God and the Republic this was America!!
Here is another little episode from my past that I will tell but not use any names out of respect for those involved. We had a nice lady who was a member of our congregation, Mrs. X. When you are little all you know is the husband went to work. Only a few times did you know what their WORK was as a kid. Anyway, Mrs. X comes to church one day and she had a black eye. Well, we were a very close knit group so it didn’t take anytime at all for the men, especially the deacons, to find out. One day soon afterward some children were out playing and saw Mr. X’s car in a ditch. Mr. X looked like he was dead in the front seat. It was almost dark and the children ran home and told their parents. Well, one of those parents was a deacon in our congregation. One deacon called another deacon and so on and they found the car, pulled Mr. X out of the front seat and proceeded to whip the snot out of Mr. X. They pinned a note on his shirt that read, “Hit your wife again and we will finish the job, drunk or not.” After Mr. X healed up he left town. Mrs. X got a divorce and married a really nice man with some small children and they later moved away. Folks, that was America!! Men in the community didn’t run to some half-baked government agency to solve a problem, they solved it. You may not have liked their methods but by God, Mrs. X was never beaten again.
Why am I telling you this. If you are too young to remember MY America, I just wanted you to know a little about what you missed.